


The Very Super-Secret Diary Of Draco Lucius Malfoy

by Junkyard_Rose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack, Diary/Journal, F/M, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, I butchered the timeline, M/M, Madame P is a badass, Out of Character, They're all nuts, Very Secret Diary, crackity crack, general butchering of the Potterverse, not even sorry, please note i use that term loosely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-26 05:45:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 32,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1676930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Junkyard_Rose/pseuds/Junkyard_Rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My father must never hear about any of this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I am not prejudiced, I am right, and there is a difference

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise for nothing.

_**September 1 st, 1993. 10.15 am, on the train to Hogwarts. **_

Tracey Davies is never right.  
   I don’t even like her, she’s a _half-blood._ Practically a mudblood.  
   And she’s an idiot too. I do not have feelings for _Potter,_ nor am I jealous of his horrible hair or pretty eyes.  
   Shut up, I don’t care you might think I actually do like him because I say his eyes are pretty. I am perfectly straight, thank-you very much, I can just appreciate that Potter has pretty eyes.  
   Oh, Merlin, I sound like a girl.  
   Anyway, Pansy – Pansy Parkinson, old pureblood family, worthy of my time – wants me to right in this ‘journal’ because our parents want us to get married but she won’t marry someone ‘insensitive’ and I don’t want to risk losing my inheritance, so I’m doing it, ~~only to keep her happy.~~  
   Pansy isn’t actually that bad. Ok, she is, but if I ignore her and smile and nod when she stops her ranting to take a breath she pretty much leaves me alone to twitter on about makeup and clothes and who snogged who and the like.  
   Crabbe and Goyle – who I am almost completely sure are in love – have been picking on me for the last five minutes since Pansy gave me this stupid journal even though I threatened to doctor their family trees and make them mudbloods, so just to shut the two idiots up I am actually writing in it.  
   I was all for passing this bloody trip by starting a fight with Pretty-Eyes Potter, but the git’s sitting in a compartment with a freaking professor so I can’t.  
   Oh, Merlin. Pansy and Davies – why does Pansy hang around her, anyway? – are back, and Pansy’s simpering on about me writing in this bloody book. Davies is smirking – stupid bint – and I think Pansy just asked to read what I am writing.  
   No. Freaking. Way.  
   Putting you away now, you dumb book. You’re getting me laughed at by a half-blood.  
   And just so you understand: I am not prejudiced. I am right. There is a difference.

  

* * *

 

**_11.28pm, Slytherin Boys Dorms, Hogwarts._ **

There was a Dementor. A Dementor on the bloody train!  
   My father will definitely be hearing about this.  
   And Potter fainted! He actually fainted! Like a girl.  
   Ha.  
   Crabbe and Goyle were holding hands when it came into our compartment. I knew it, they’re in love.  
   If they can understand the concept of love, at least. Neither of them can even read. Well, Crabbe’s learning. Probably so he can help his dear Vince with his homework instead of bothering to threaten Ravenclaws into doing it for them.  
   Hang on, I don’t think that’s right. Goyle’s Greg, isn’t he? And Crabbe is Vince?  
   I don’t really care.  
   Oooh, that’s right! Back to the subject of Potter (maybe Davies is right; I might fancy him a teeny, tiny, miniscule bit) or at least Potter-related – Mudblood Granger has a little Mudblood sister. A little dirty-blonde, dirty-blooded, frizzy-haired slip of a person who got sorted into _Slytherin.  
_    A mudblood, a _Granger_ Mudblood, in my very own house.  
   Father will also be hearing about this.  
   She’s called ‘Rosaline’, and that’s a fucking pureblood name! And when I poked fun at Potter for fainting at the feast, the little devil kicked me under the table, hard, and told me to “Shut your mouth, princess, or I’ll shut it for you.”  
   Granger Sr. went a funny purple colour and told her to stop it, but she was smirking, and the Weasel laughed.  
   At least I think it was a laugh, but it sounded like a dying Walrus chocking on seaweed.  
   I tried to hex Granger Jr. in the common room but she deflected it with a fucking muggle mirror, which she drew so fast I didn’t even see and the curse bounced off at hit Theo Nott, who sprouted tentacles and has to spend the rest of the night swimming around in the Black Lake with the giant squid.  
   Just another night at Hogwarts, then.

* * *

 

**_September 2 nd, 9.45am, History of Magic. _ **

Merlin, Binns could put an Inferi to sleep.  
   He’s. So. Fucking. Boring. Why. Won’t. He. Stop?  
   I am honesty considering getting up and walking out. No one would notice, only Crabbe and Goyle would follow and one of the mudblood Ravenclaws would tell on us.  
   God, I’m bored.  
   Hassled Weasley and Potter this morning. Well, Weasley. Potter was glaring at me. He’s so pretty.  
   Tried to trip mini-Granger down the stairs, but she dodged and I ended up caught in the trick stair till Goyle pulled me out.  
   Had a nightmare about bushy hair last night. Was suffocating me. Think it’s a sign.  
   Mini-Granger has made friends with Davies. Pansy ditched Davies, and is now following me around like a puppy. A pug puppy, that is.

* * *

 

**_2.19pm, Hospital Wing._ **

I got mauled by a fucking giant chicken.  
   I’m not even shitting you right now.  
   Stupid freaking Potter (oh, I’m over him, did you hear?) was chumming up to this giant bird in the oaf’s ‘Care of Magical Creatures’ (more like ‘How to Get Killed by Savage Monsters’) class, and I didn’t even do anything and it attacked me. Sliced my arm open.  
   Pomphrey healed it in seconds, but I get a sling and a bandage and get to bung it on. Pansy’s been simpering over it all day, and I can assure you, my father _has_ heard about this. With any luck he’ll get the oaf sacked and the beast killed and rid Hogwarts of some of its vermin.  
   Speaking of vermin, mini-Granger got in a fight with Nott (who was de-tentacle-d by lunch) and broke his nose.  
   So she’s not just a mudblood, she’s a sociopath too. Figures.

* * *

 

  **_September 4 th, 10.08pm, Slytherin Boys Dorms. _**

I am officially dating Pansy, it seems. I didn’t even know until she came up to me this morning and wrapped her arms around me, squealing ‘Happy Anniversary’. I shoved her away because Malfoy’s Don’t Do Public Displays of Affection, but I went with it anyway. She was pissed I didn’t get her anything, but it’s bloody hard to give someone something for a six-month anniversary you didn’t even know about for a relationship you didn’t even know you were in.   
   Whatever.  
   Still faking the arm injury. Not sure if I should keep it up until Quidditch or ‘heal’ a few days before the match.  
   Father wrote back about the chicken. Will try to get the oaf fired.  
   Flint fell asleep on the common room sofa last night and mini-Granger put muggle make-up on him. We let her because we all hate him, and no one told him and he went off to class looking like an evil clown.  
   He managed to give mini-Granger a tail. A zebra-striped tail, and she is in no hurry to get rid of it.  
   Nutter.  
   In other news, I think Davies is going through what Mother calls ‘blossoming’. Meaning she’s cranky and emotion all the time, and is getting both tits and spots. Pansy, who has the body of a nine year old boy, is jealous. I can’t see why; Davies looks lumpy and pissed and spotty and bursts into tears for no reason.  
   Oh, Merlin, I can hear Goyle singing softy on the other side of the room. He does that because it ‘helps' him sleep. And now Crabbe is joining in, and Nott is saying horrible things about their mothers.  
   Nott, who uses big words but doesn’t understand the meanings, is descended from giant sentient rats, so he can’t really talk. I am drawing my curtains now, and ignoring my roommates.  
   Father said next year he might be able to get me my own private room so I don’t have to bunk with these fools.  
   In other news, Zabini is not here for the second night in a row. Nott thinks he has a girlfriend and is sneaking off to her room. I think he is wisely hiding from Nott, who is downright homicidal at times and glares at Zabini as if he is going to Avada him.  
   Also, boggarts. That’s what Loony Lupin had for us in class. I didn’t get to find out what mine was because Bloody Potter, of course. He was facing it, and Loony Lupin, who’s poorer than a Weasley and can barely even be considered a wizard, shoved him away and dealt with it himself.  
   Potter isn’t made of fucking glass, honestly, people. Hmm, I think I still fancy him.  
   And on that note I’m telling my roommates to shut up and going to sleep.

* * *

 

**_September 6 th, midday, Hogsmeade village. _ **

I have thing to tell you, small leather bound book. But firstly, I must make it clear that my father must never hear of any of this. Ever.  
   Firstly, mini-Granger is mental. Freaking mental. On my way to breakfast this morning, I shoved some Hufflepuff out of my way, who is apparently a friend of the blonde-ball-of-hair-with-legs-attached, and of course she was right there, and apparently some rather unpleasant things will happen between my legs if I keep on this way (what way, exactly, I don’t really know) and I don’t really want to test her patience, because she’s got that look in her eye like the one of our house elves had right before it went mental and killed our other two and then itself and we had to get Dobby, who was useless, so I am going to Stay Away from Little Granger.  
   Secondly, my crush on Potter is back, fully fledged, even though he’s made it rather clear he hates me. I think my brain’s twisted, for making me fall for someone I’m supposed to hate. Used to hate. Pretend to hate.  
   Whatever.   
   Thirdly, woke up this morning to find Nott standing over me, grinning like a freaking maniac. He honestly scares me. I might do a Zabini if he keeps this up, and vanish. Speaking of which, I haven’t seen Zabini for several days. Maybe Nott’s killed him and tossed him in the Black Lake.  
   I’ll ask Pansy of she knows anything.  
   Pansy is joyous because she got a spot, and is apparently ‘maturing’. Davies scoffed at her when she said this, and I couldn’t help but laugh because Davies’ face looks like she’s been attacked by a nest of Doxies.  
   I am getting hair on my chin. May I mention how wrong it feels? Malfoy’s don’t get hairy chins. Oafs like Hagrid and paupers like Lupin and nutters like Dumbledore grow facial hair. Malfoy’s do _not._  
   I’ll have to send home for a razor, or look for an appropriate charm in the library. I don’t care if you can’t even see the fine golden strands without being an inch away and really looking, I will not stand them.  
   Hogsmeade village is rather unimpressive, to be honest. I doubt a single person here is of proper blood.  
   Which inadvertently leads to the question; where do they get the blood to make those blood lollipops? Do the Honeydukes owners sacrifice their own? Do they go around syphoning from innocents? Blood banks? What if you’ve got a blood disease, like that HIV thing? Have they infected innocent people with deadly diseases? Or is it not real blood?  
   Hey, maybe Nott’s a vampire.  
   Maybe he’s got Zabini locked up somewhere and is feeding off him. Maybe I’m next.  
   I think I think too much.

* * *

 

**_5.07pm, Slytherin Common Room._ **

Calmly asked Nott if he knew where Zabini was. Nott glared at me and slunk away. Not good. Really, not good.  
   I think mini-Granger is following me. Not good. Or, I could say, nott good?  
   Aren’t I hilarious?  
   I apologise, I’ve had a lot of sugar today. Anyway, mini-Granger. Stalking me. Of course, it’s possible the Nott/Zabini thing has just set me on edge.  
   Crabbe and Goyle held hands all the way back from Hogsmeade, and I think Pansy is pissed I didn’t ask her to go with me. Hey, I only found out we were dating a few days ago, can’t I be forgiven for not wanting to spend ever second with her?  
    I really am rather messed up, aren’t I? I fancy the pants of my very male ‘arch-nemesis’ while I am supposedly in a relationship with my family-approved future fiancé.  
   I wonder what my father would do if I told him I was breaking things off with Pansy to go after Potter.  
   Probably Avada me.  
   I wonder if I care.


	2. "I may have accidentally made friends with a sociopath, but at least she protects me from the creeper in my dorm."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I may have accidentally made friends with a sociopath, but at least she protects me from the creeper in my dorm."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank my internet connection for not screwing up long enough for me to post this.

**_September 10 th, hospital wing, midday                     _ **

I hate my life.  
   Woke up to find Nott _in my fucking bed with me_. Screamed very manly scream. Leapt out of bed. Tossed pitcher of water on Nott. Tried to run away to common room. Ran into door. Knocked self out.  
   Am in hospital wing with concussion. Zabini is alive, in bed next to mine. Has been here for quite some time. Probably nearly killed himself trying to get away from Nott.  
   Mini-Granger in bed across from mine. Is covered in purple polka-dots and singing about living hills that feed off music. Won’t shut up. Growl at her. Still won’t shut up.  
   Am going to try to knock myself out again.

**_1.48pm, still in hospital wing._ **

Successfully knocked self again. Got hollered at by Madame Pomfrey. Mini-Granger still won’t shut up. Her polka-dots are smaller and a bit more pinkish now. Am thinking about hexing her.  
   Zabini is in a coma. Am jealous.

**_2.09pm, hospital wing. Still._ **

   Older-Granger (Harmony? Hillary? Something with an H and a Y) came to visit sister. Managed to shut her up. Think I love her.  
   Oooh, Potter just came in. He smiled (at Mini-Granger). I melted a bit.  
   Potter asks me why I am here and if I am faking another injury. Act offended and scornful. Tell him story of Nott the Creeper.  
   Potter laughs at the bit where I knock myself out. Pretend to hate him. Am really in love.  
   Potter leaves with Older-Granger. Am depressed.

**_2.22pm. Still here._ **

Am bored. Strike up conversation with Mini-Granger. Ask her invasive questions about herself. She answers. Ask her invasive questions about her sister. She still answers.  
   (Note: Older-Granger’s first name is ‘Hermione’. Don’t understand why anyone would name their kid ‘Hermione’. It is dreadful. Will call her ‘Harmony’ in head from now on. Sounds prettier.)  
   Ask invasive questions about Potter. She doesn’t answer. Smirks at me. Fuck. Back track, back track, back track.

**_3pm, dungeon corridor._ **

Got kicked out of hospital wing by Madame P. Couldn’t be arsed to go to my last lesson of the day. Am walking back to common room with Mini-Granger. Mini-Granger is still covered in small red dots. She looks like she has the plague.  
   Is a mudblood. Probably does.  
   Inch away from her.

**_3.19pm, Slytherin common room._ **

Am too afraid to go into dorm because Nott is there. Am hanging out with Mini-Granger in the common room.  
   Asked her who gave her the polka dots.  
   She gave them to herself. For fun.  
   Merlin’s balls.

**_September 11 th, 8.52am, Great Hall. _ **

   Nott sat next to me at breakfast. Started asking how I was. Ignored him in favour of staring at Potter from across the Hall. Potter caught me looking; probably thinks I am planning to murder him.  
   Nott puts his hand on my knee. Inch away from him.  
   Mini-Granger appears out of nowhere. Wedges herself between myself and Nott. Starts gibbering about South-East Asia and pine cones.  
   Nott skulks off.  
   Mini-Granger is smug. Was her goal in the first place.  
   I think I love her.

**_11.15am, Hogwarts Grounds._ **

   Am bunking of Divination. Lying on back in grass. Wonder if the grass here is spelled to stay short or they make Hagrid cut it with one of those muggle push things.    Got letter from father. The chicken is getting a trial, which is bollocks. They should just execute it.  
   And then when Potter gets upset because his oaf’s pet got killed I can put my arms around him and let him sob manly sobs on my shoulder while I run my hands through his ridiculous hair -    Bad brain. Stop that.

**_11.16am_ **

I wonder if having ridiculous hair is a requirement to being friends with Potter.  
   I mean.  
   Harmony: Squirrel nest on head.  
   Weasel (s): Ginger.  
   Longbottom: Bowl cut.  
   Hagrid: Don’t even go there.  
   Mini-Granger: afro.

   Speaking of Mini-Granger, I think I just saw her coming my way.  
   Do squirrels have nests?

**_11.18am, sitting on grass with Mini-Granger._ **

I think I accidentally made friends with Mini-Granger in the hospital wing yesterday.  
   Mini-Granger still has faint spots and something red in her hair.  
   I hope it’s not blood.  
   But if it is blood I want it to be Nott’s blood.  
   Will ask her.

**_11.23am_ **

   It actually is Nott’s blood in Mini-Granger’s hair.  
   He attacked her on her way to class after breakfast after she interrupted his creeping at breakfast. She broke his nose (again) and made him promise to leave us both alone.  
   If she wasn’t a mudblood I would hug her. I mean, I may have accidentally made friends with a sociopath, but at least she protects me from the creeper in my dorm.

**_11.29am_ **

   Mini-Granger’s 'nickname' is 'Rosie'.  
   Am apparently allowed to call her that.  
   Do not know what to make of these developments. Will ask a professional later.  
   Mini-Granger/Rosie thinks she is funny. Am inclined to agree.  
   Am blaming this all on Potter for making me fall in love with him and turning my world upside down.

**_6.14pm, Slytherin common room._ **

Tracey Davies is not a professional. Mistaking her for one again is a potentially dangerous mistake.  
   In own defence, I have no one else to ask.  
   I mean, Crabbe and Goyle are idiots, Pansy is psychotic and would probably murder Mini-Granger/Rosie if she knew we were ‘hanging out’, Zabini is in a coma, Nott is a creeper and no one else will talk to me.  
   Have just realised I don’t really have any friends.  
   Can’t be arsed to try to make any.  
   Anyway, Davies.  
   Sought her out after class ended. Asked her about Mini-Granger/Rosie (am resolving to call her Rosie from now on b/c I can’t be arse to write Mini-Granger every time I mention her). Davies bullied me into telling her why I want to know about Rosie.  
   Note: Davies is scary. Can imagine her being McGonagall in about sixty years.  
   Davies bullied me into telling her all about accidentally befriending Rosie. Teased me about it. Advised me to ‘go with the flow’ and see what happens. I think Davies is secretly a tree-hugging hippie. Somehow makes her even more frightening.  
   Anyway, Davies laughed at me for a bit longer and I hexed her.  
   Unfortunately at the exact moment the real McGonagall came around the corner.  
   Fuck my life.  
   Am serving detention tomorrow for ‘disrespecting and attacking my classmates’. Also lost twenty house points.  
   On the bright side, I gave Davies some sort of skin condition (apart from her acne I mean) because I said the incantation wrong and no one can cure her.  
   Serves her right.  
   But now I can’t ask her if it is rude to shower immediately after my new (mudblood) friend touches me.  
   Bollocks.  
   Will settle for discreet scorgify charm.

**_September 14, 9.09pm, Hospital Wing_ **

Forgot about this journal. Left it in bag. Have taken to using Rosie as a person house elf. Sent Rosie into bag to get quill in common room. Rosie found journal. _Rosie Granger read my fucking journal_.  
   Should probably murder her.  
   Can’t bear to because she gave me big puppy-crup eyes and asked if I really thought she was a sociopathic mudblood with an afro.  
   Said yes.  
   Rosie proved point by putting me in hospital wing.  
   I don’t suit purple polka dots.  
   Or a black eye.  
   Or a red and gold afro.  
   I hate her.  
   Am going to hide this stupid book when I get out of here.  
   Am going to find that mass murderer. Black. Am going to feed Rosie to him before she can ~~tell Potter how I feel about him~~ tell everyone my secrets.  
   I hate my life.

**_28 October, 4.57am, Slytherin Boys Dorms._ **

   Hid this journal ages ago. Only just found it again. Read through previous entries. Merlin, I am a tit.  
   I wish I could be nicer to Potter.  
   Potter fell off broom the other day. Went to see him in hospital wing when he was unconscious. Felt like creeper. Backed away.  
   Oh, Merlin, I just realised how that sounded. Potter fell off his _sports broom_ in _Quidditch_.  
   Have been hanging around Crabbe and Goyle too much. Have developed dirty mind.  
   Got screamed at by girlfriend today in front of entire Slytherin House for not paying enough attention to her.  
   Pansy is a nutter. Don’t even like her. Am probably gay.  
   Can’t sleep.  
   In other news, Zabini woke up from his coma at the beginning of the month. Nearly drowned in Black Lake, apparently. His brain was starved of oxygen or some other medical rubbish. He is back in our dorm. Nott is back to creeping. On the bright side, he creeps on Zabini and not me so I can’t bring myself to care.  
   Sort of wish I still had a crazy little mudblood friend to protect me from creepers.  
   Unfortunately, do not speak to Rosie anymore.  
   She yelled at the top of her lungs at breakfast the other day that I fancy Potter.  
   I mean, no one believed her. But still.  
   Hexed her anyway.  
   And when I say that no one believed her I mean that no one apart from Harmony believed her.  
   Harmony tripped me over on our way to How to Get Killed by Savage Monsters Class. Was not even walking near her.  
   Am beginning to think that Harmony is a hit-wizard.  
   Or possibly one of those muggle things. What are they called? Gingas?  
   No, ninjas.  
   If Weasel was not too busy tripping over own huge feet and being a pathetic penniless excuse for a pureblood he could be a _ginger-ninja._  
   Anyway, Harmony. Even after she tripped me up for hexing her sister she is being really nice to be whenever Potter is around and sending me little looks from underneath her bushy eyebrows.  
   Slipped her pamphlet for mother’s person stylist and beauty witch the other day.  
   I mean, Harmony could never afford her and she does not do mudblood customers, but I think Harmony got the message.  
   She needs some personal grooming, pronto.  And I really need a life.

**_October 30 th, sometime around midnight, Great Hall. _ **

Sirius Black managed to break into Hogwarts. Did not even kill Rosie. Am very disappointed in him. Tried to break into Gryffindor Tower instead, presumably to try to kill Potter.  
      I wish people would stop doing that.  
   Accidentally-on-purpose made sure the huge squashy purple sleeping bag I am in is near Potter and co. Harmony raised slightly-less-bushy (ha, she took my advice) eyebrow at me. Sneered at her. Fell over Goyle. Face planted Crabbe’s crotch.  
   Hate my life.

**_1am(ish), in a Granger Sandwich._ **

   So this just happened:  
   Mysterious Voice of Doom beside me: “Draco? Are you awake?”  
   Me: jumps about three foot in the air and makes a girly sort of squeal. Quietly.  
   Mysterious voice of Doom: turns out to be Harmony.  
   Glare at her. Call her mudblood.  
   Harmony: rolls eyes and is not bothered.  
   Harmony: wants to know if I really fancy Potter.  
   Me: Tells her to piss off. In a manly way.  
   Harmony: tells me it is perfectly acceptable for me to fancy a bloke. Know this already. I am a Malfoy, I do what I want.  
   Harmony: advises me to be nicer to Potter.  
   Harmony is trying to give me relationship advice. Merlin’s bloody beard.  
   Say something cutting to her about her love/hate thing with the Weasel. Harmony goes bright red. Presses on anyway.  
   I hate her.  
   Harmony: tells me if I ever need to talk I can talk to her. Apologises for sister.  
   Huh. Said sister: appears out of nowhere on my other side. Am not sure if I have mentioned this, but Rosie is really, really, really tiny. Do not call her Mini-Granger for nothing. She looks ridiculous in the huge sleeping back. Is eating what appears to be a blood lollipop. Inch away from her; inadvertently inch toward Harmony.  
   Harmony takes this as sign I want to ‘talk’ to her about my ‘romantic feelings’ for ‘Harry’.  
   Flounder for a minute. Wonder who Harry is.  
   Oh. Right. Potter has a first name.  
   I am an idiot.  
   Harmony: is whispering away about ways to ‘woo’ Potter.  
   I do not want to woo Potter.  
   Am too afraid.  
   Rosie is inching closer to me on my other side, bits of blood lollipop stuck to her lips. Is pushing me toward Harmony.  
   Tricky little devil. Is not a Slytherin for nothing.  
   Am trying not to scream b/c I am in a mudblood sandwich.  
   A Granger Sandwich.  
   Their hair is huge. At least Rosie keeps her fairy short. Harmony’s goes on for _ages_.  
   Wonder how she doesn’t manage to strangle herself on a daily basis.  
   Harmony: wants to know what I am writing.  
   Rosie: informs her it is my diary.  
   You are not a diary, book. You are a journal. A manly, Malfoy journal.  
   Am going to try to appeal to Harmony’s basic human decency.  
   Tell her I am very tired. Would like to sleep.  
   Harmony: promises we can talk tomorrow and goes away.  
   Fuck.  
   Don’t want to talk tomorrow.  
   At least one of them has gone away.  
   Rosie tosses her arm over me. Try to shrug her off.  
   For a teeny little girl, Rosie is very strong. Can’t get her off.  
   Give up.  
   Am going to sleep now.   


	3. "‘Big Bushy, Little Bushy and Me in a bed’. Oh, Merlin, that shounds like bad porn."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "‘Big Bushy, Little Bushy and Me in a bed’. Oh, Merlin, that shounds like bad porn."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Kaeyi, who wanted more - thanks for your support, dude (I don't care if you are male or female. I'm calling you 'dude'.)

**_November 1 st, midnight, Slytherin Boys Dorms. _ **

   I am going to Avada myself.  
   Was looking for sweets to bribe Rosie with under Crabbe’s bed this morning. Found stash of porn.  
   _Please_ Avada me.  
   I literally know nothing about porn, but I know Crabbe’s porn is NOT good porn.  
   I may have screamed a little.  
   Serves me right for opening the cover of a magazine titles ‘Wizards and their Wands’.  
   Finally have proof Crabbe likes blokes.  
   Or one bloke at least.  
   Even though I am fairly sure Goyle is a sentient rock with arms and legs.  
   I may have sprinted out of the room, into common room, hit head on something and knocked self out. Again.  
   Spent most of the day in hospital wing.  
   Harmony tried to come ‘talk’ to me but I plead injury, insanity and aneurism and she left me alone.  
   Note: must find out what ‘aneurism’ is because Harmony now thinks I have one.  
   And I still don’t have anything to bribe Rosie with.  
   Will have to go by her sweets from Honeydukes.  
   Cringe at idea of wasting money on blood lollipops for a mudblood.  
   If they will make said mudblood leave me alone every now and then they are worth it.  
   Can’t even understand why Crabbe has porn.  
   Little young, aren’t we?  
   Aren’t we?

* * *

 

**_November 4 th, midday, Hogsmeade village. _ **

   Am totally not spying on Potter, Weasel and the Grangers from behind a bush.  
   Potter and Rosie aren’t even supposed to be in Hogsmeade. Potter didn’t get permission of his muggles (why the hell not? Fucking stupid muggles, not letting Potter have fun) and Rosie is a _first year_.  
   Harmony seems bothered by the fact her sister is breaking school rules.  
   Obviously having a wand up your arse doesn’t run in the family, then, because Rosie does not seem bothered at all.  
   Little rebel.  
   Am wondering how they managed to sneak out. Would very much like to know.  
   Am wondering if I should tell on them. Hang on, they’re talking about me. Will sneakily creep forward through bushes to listen.

 

**_12.20pm, the Three Broomsticks._ **

Stepped on a Jarvey in the bush when I was spying on Potter and co.  
   Jarvey swore _fiercely_ at me. Attracted the attention of Potter and co.  
   Had to run away. Jarvey bit my leg. Am bleeding through expensive trousers.  
   I think Harmony saw me.  
   She will probably want to ‘talk’ to me about it.  
   My life was so much easier back before I knew Rosie existed, when I could make Harmony cry with a few mean words and when Potter and Weasel thought I was some kind of evil overlord-in-training.  
   Well, I’m fairly sure they still think that.  
   But now Harmony knows I have emotions. And feelings.  
   She is trying to ‘get to know me’.  
   I want to cry.  
   No, can’t. Harmony and the Weasel just came in.  
   Wonder what happened to Rosie and Potter.  
   If they are snogging behind a tree somewhere I will legitimately kill Rosie.

 

**_12.24pm, the Three Broomsticks._ **

   Harmony just took a journal and a quill out of her bag and is spelling it with her wand.  
   She is copying me.  
   Why didn’t I think to spell my journal so no one else can read it but me?  
   Oh. Right. Because Harmony is a genius (not that I will EVER admit that aloud) and I am an idiot.  
   I wonder if –

_Um, Malfoy? Draco?_

What the bloody fuck?

_It’s Granger. Hermione, I mean._

Harmony, how are you in my book?

_It’s a charm I found in the library. It’s really simple, I got the idea from Tom Riddle’s diary and modified it a bit –_

I get the point, mudblood. Why exactly do you feel the need to invade my journal?

_Um, sorry. I know it’s a bit rude but I really wanted to talk to you._

I don’t want to talk to you.

_Um, ok? Were you spying on us before?_

…piss off.

_Sorry. I just wanted to make sure it was you and not someone else who would tell on us before. With the Jarvey. Are you going to tell on us?_

…no.

_Oh, thankyou –_

Piss off, Harmony.

And if you do this again I will make you regret ever stepping foot on the Hogwarts Express. Clear, mudblood?

_Um, yes. Sorry. I won’t do it again. And it’s actually ‘Hermione’, not ‘Harmony’, just so we’re clear._

* * *

 

**_November 9 th, 2.10pm, Slytherin common room. _ **

Am bunking off Divination again.  
   Have spelled this book so Harmony can’t get into it with her creepy spells.  
   Pansy has been shouting at me again today. She thinks I don’t appreciate her. I didn’t think she was clever enough to figure that out, actually.  
   Got a letter from father this morning. Pansy has been writing home to family about how I ‘treat her like a lowly mudblood’.  
   Excuse me.  
   I have one mudblood friend and her nosy big sister now. At least I actually pay attention to them instead of constantly ignoring them.  
   This is a worrying development.  
   Anyway, letter from father. He says if I carry on treating my possible future fiancé with such ‘indifference’ he will marry me off to a half blood. As long as it is not Davies I don’t really care.  
   Zabini has somehow procured a fedora . He will not take it off.  
   Managed to do a sneaky Sticking Charm without him noticing. We have potions in about ten minutes. Cannot wait for Snape to nearly rip of Zabini’s head trying to pull it off.  
   Have been spending too much time with Rosie Granger.

* * *

 

**_November 11 th, 4.14pm, Slytherin common room. _ **

   I hate Hufflepuffs.  
   Am writing on a spare piece of parchment because Harmony has my journal. Why, you ask, does she have it?  
   Because Hufflepuff’s are idiotic, dirty-blooded elf-shaggers, that is why.  
   Some Hufflepuff idiot thought it would be funny to put up charmed mistletoe _already,_ and if you get caught under it you can’t move away until you kiss the first person to cross your path. It’s terribly inconvenient when the bell goes and everyone is scrambling to get to class and then – anyway, I have been cornered by Pansy twice, tried and failed to corner Potter four times (he’s a slippery little thing) and then I got stuck under one with _Davies._  
   I think she was even more disgusted than I was.  
   Anyway, Harmony, being the genius that she is, knows the counter spell. And she happened to be walking past with Potter and the Weasel.  
   Davies and I were literally begging her to let us go. She said she would if I let her read my diary.  
   I hate her.  
   Anyway, it was either that or kiss Davies, so I handed over my precious book and was freed.  
   Ran back here.  
   Harmony will have broken my wards by now. Is probably laughing her head off.  
   She promised she wouldn’t let Potter or the Weasel see inside the book. Harmony is a Gryffindor and a decent person. I don’t think she will show them, but they might sneak it off her. Or try to. Weasel would fall over his comically large feet and face plant into a conveniently placed patch of dragon-dung if he tried to sneak it off her and then somehow set himself on fire.  
   But what if Potter is reading about -    I have made a horrible mistake. Fuck. I must go get my precious book back.

* * *

 

**_November 12 th, 11.19am, Slytherin Common room. _ **

Have my book back.  
   Ended up standing outside Gryffindor Tower for an hour last night begging, bribing and threatening the nutty knight to let me in. Nutty knight did not.  
   Sulked back to common room. Found out this morning that not long after I returned to my own common room, Sirius Black broke into Gryffindor Tower and nearly killed Weasley.  
   He failed.  
   Am really disappointed in this chap.  
   On the bright side, Harmony returned my book at breakfast while she was not rolling her eyes at the Weasel, who is probably greatly exaggerating his story in an attempt to look ‘cool’. Amateur. I do it effortlessly.  
   Harmony promises Potter and Weasel did not read my book, but the female Weasel may have read an entry, but promises it was one where I did not mention Potter.  
   Harmony is probably a liar. I have re-read entire diary. Mention Potter in nearly every entry.  
   I need a life.

* * *

 

**_November 18 th, very, very early, in Harmony’s bed. _ **

It’s not what you’re thinking, I swear.  
   It is fucking freezing, you know, at this time of year. Especially in the dungeons, where our ever so charming dormitories and common room are.  
   I’ve more or less gotten used to it, but Rosie hasn’t yet. She snuck into my bed around midnight, stealing all the covers and leaving me bloody freezing. For someone ridiculously tiny, she takes up a lot of space. She let slip that it was always toasty warm up in the _Gryffindor_ common room and she was contemplating commandeering her sister’s bed because she _knows the Gryffindor password.  
_    It was obvious what was to be done.  
   Wrapped self up in duvet and thickest socks. Grabbed Rosie by her tiny arm. Rosie burned herself under my duvet/cloak and we sprinted through the _absolutely fucking freezing_ halls of Hogwarts up to Gryffindor Tower. I think we ran through a ghost, too, because by the time we got up there we were blue in the face and Rosie’s teeth her chattering. I think I got frostbite on my little toes.  
   So Rosie let us in and ran up the stairs to the girls dorms and informed me they are charmed so boys can’t go up them. I did these things, in this order:  
1-Rolled eyes at puffy-haired, teensy mudblood friend.  
2-Said ‘accio nearest broomstick’.  
3-Flew up stairs on ~~stolen~~ borrowed broomstick.  
4-Raise perfectly groomed eyebrow at small, furry mudblood friend.  
   So then we invaded Harmony’s dorm.  
   Note: Never again wake up Harmony in the middle of the night. She gets _frightening._ I swear she was going to hex me. She let Rosie into her bed straight after she finished growling at us, but told me to bugger off.  
   And she’s meant to be a _nice person.  
_    “Harmony,” I said, “I am literally freezing my bollocks off. For Merlin’s sake, I let you read my diary. You know my _deepest, darkest secrets_! And I’m your sister’s best friend! We’re practically family! _Let me in your fucking bed_.”  
    I also may have said a lot of nice things to Harmony I don’t actually mean.  
   But I was desperate - means to an end, and all that.  
   In the end, Harmony did let me into her bed.  
   It is all toasty warm and snugly.  
   I could kiss her.  
   Rosie informed me we are not best friends. I don’t care. I am warm.  
   I feel like humming.  
   I could write a song.  
   ‘Big Bushy, Little Bushy and Me in a bed’.  
   Oh, Merlin, that sounds like bad porn.  
   Am not going to write a song.  
   Harmony is telling me to put wand light out and go to sleep.  
   And doing what she says, because without her hair unrestrained she looks a bit like an angry grizzly bear and could quite possibly eat me with her gigantic teeth.    Rosie read that over my shoulder and is giggling like a loon.  
   There is a funny feeling in my chest. I am either happy or having a heart attack. Will find out in morning.

* * *

 

**_November 19 th, 9.27am, Harmony’s bed. _ **

   Harmony and Rosie are cute when they sleep.  
   Rosie doesn’t look like she could go nuts and kill everyone at any second, and Harmony has lost her angry grizzly bear face. Feel like a creeper. Don’t care.  
   I really need to whizz but can’t because I can hear Harmony’s roommates chatting and I can _not_ be seen leaving Harmony Granger’s bed. I have a reputation to uphold.  
   Also, a girlfriend who I don’t really like but would probably leave me if she heard I slept in Harmony’s bed.  
   Said girlfriend would also write to my father. Father would go mental if he knew I was friendly with mudbloods.  
   Am not entirely sure how any of this happened. I blame Potter for being loveable, Rosie for being insane and protecting me from creepers, and Harmony for always wanting to ‘talk’.  
   Harmony’s roommates just left. Am going to attempt to sneak off for a whizz.

 

**_11.14am, Hospital Wing._ **

   I spend way too much time in here.  
   Long story short, this time I got tossed out a window by a tiny furry first year.  
   Rosie, of course. Who else?  
   I had successfully snuck off for a whizz. Was returning to the Wonderful Bed of Warmness when I heard Harmony’s roommates returning.  
   Rosie had awoken by this time. Informed me we had to get me out of there, quick.  
   Foolishly listened to her.  
   Rosie herded me to window. Opened window. Pushed me out. Cast ‘Wingardium Leviosa’. Did nothing. Crashed to ground. Fractured skull, broke leg, broke other leg, broke one rib and punctured lung.  
   Am going to be in hospital wing for quite some time.  
   Mother and Father to arrive soon. Bribed Crabbe and Goyle into telling everyone we were mucking around and I fell down a set of dungeon stairs.  
   Madame P, surprisingly, does not call our bluff. Agrees with story even though she was fetched by Harmony to the ground below Gryffindor Tower.  
   Not sure why she isn’t contradicting us. Am not going to question it.  
   Mother and Father have just arrived. Madame P is telling them off for raising a reckless child who ‘all but throws himself down a set of dungeon stairs’ and is ‘in here every other week for some reason or another’.  
   Could kiss her.  
   Pain Relieving Potion is wearing off. Am going to ask for another.

**_1.45pm, Hospital Wing. Obviously._ **

Drifted off after second pain potion. Wake up to find Mother and Father have left; Harmony is sitting by bedside. Is all teary. Bollocks.  
   Harmony is apologising. Thinks it is her fault her furry sister tossed me out window.  
   Tell her it is not her fault. Harmony laughs when I describe Rosie as ‘furry’. Stops crying.  
   Harmony has brought me books. What is it with Harmony and books? She probably had no friends as a child and spent all her time reading to starve off the loneliness. Laugh in head before remembering that is what I used to do too.  
   Thank Harmony. Look at books. Don’t understand what a why rings need a lord. Probably Muggle rubbish.  
   Madame P is coming over.  
   Madame P is -    Oh, Merlin.  
   Madame P thinks Harmony and I are in love.  
   What.  
   Why.  
   Oh.  
   Madame P says she will not cover for us again, but thinks we should tell our friends and families about our relationship.  
   Could cry.  
   Harmony is protesting. Madame P pats her arms and toddles off.  
   Am shell-shocked.  
   Look at Harmony. Harmony looks at me.  
   School bell rings.  
   Have personally never understood why teachers do not send out a Patronus to tell students to get to class in favour of a bell.  
   Will ask Head of House.  
   Harmony is scurrying off b/c she is too much of a swot to skip class, even for the boy her rabid little sister tossed out a window.  
   Stupid mudblood.  
   On that note, I think I am growing fond of Harmony.  
   This is all somehow Potter’s fault

**_2.29pm._ **

   Am really bored.  
   And I mean really, really, horribly bored.  
   Wish Rosie was bunking off class to entertain me. Wish Potter was weeping manly tears at my bedside because the love of his life (me) has been so badly injured.    Have spent last half hour thinking about Potter’s ridiculous soft-looking hair and his big green eyes behind his stupid owlish glasses. I wonder what he would look like without his glasses.  
   Must steal them sometime to find out.  
   Am still really bored but.  
   May have to resort to Harmony’s books.  
   Am wondering what Potter would do if I randomly kissed him.  
   He has the most gorgeous lips I have ever seen.  
   Fuck it all, I need help.  
   Wonder what Harmony would do if I cut off all her hair.  
   Probably transform into an angry grizzly bear and eat me.  
   Am going to read Harmony’s books. Only to find out why rings need a lord, mind.

* * *

 

**_November 21 st 10.14pm, Hospital Wing. _ **

I just finished the last book. _The Return of the King_ , I mean.  
   And now I know why rings need a lord.  
   I can’t – I just can’t. This is – oh my -    I can’t believe a muggle wrote all that.  
   I just _can’t function my brain has melted I just can’t_.  
   I am in love. With a book series.  
   Don’t even care that Harmony came to visit me twice and laughed at me when she saw how immersed I was in her wonderful books.  
   I mean, three months ago I was freaking out because a half-blood laughed at me.  
   My life has changed so much. It is all Potter’s fault.  
   Am going to kiss him next time I see him.  
   Harmony also informed me yesterday that there are more books about Middle Earth. She’s sending home for them to give to me. I love her. Will never insult her blood-status again. Probably.  
   Even though her furry sister tossed me out a window.  
   Am also wondering why Harmony is spending so much time either will Rosie or here with me. I thought she was inseparable from Potter and the Weasel.  
   Also, her near-constant presence here is making Madame P smile at us and wink a lot.  
   She seems to think we are very deeply in love.   
   Sigh.  
   Need to talk to her next time she visits.  
   Had a dream last night about Dumbledore and Gandalf having tea and swapping stories about their respective young orphaned friends (Potter and Frodo). Then Gandalf set fire to Dumbledore’s beard because it was bigger than his, and then Gollum was wearing Dobby’s tea-towel and dancing to Celestine Warbeck.  
   Think it is a sign I am going insane.  
   Is it bad that I visualised my father as Lady Galadriel while reading the Fellowship of the Ring?  
   Think I have been spending too much time with Rosie, who hasn’t even come to visit me.  
   My fractured skull hurts. Am never going to complain about scratches from giant chickens again.

* * *

 

**_November 22 nd, 10.11am, where do you think I am? _ **

   Accidentally came out to Madame P earlier.  
   Conversation went like this:  
   Madame P: “Is you girlfriend coming to visit today, dear?”  
   Me: “Harmony isn’t my girlfriend.”  
   Madame P: “You don’t have to lie to me, dear.”  
   Me: “She really isn’t.”  
   Madame P: “I don’t understand why you are ashamed, dear. Ms Granger is a lovely girl. Very bright, very pretty, very kind – “  
   Me (is disturbed because Madame P thinks Harmony is pretty): “She is not my girlfriend.”  
   Madame P: “If you insist, dear.”  
   Me: “She’s just a…friend-ish sort of thing.”  
   Madame P: “It’s alright, dear, you can talk to me. Denial can be a horrible thing.”  
   Me: “I am not in denial, you [insert insult here]. Harmony is not my girlfriend. Merlin’s bloody beard, _I don’t even like girls.”_   
   Madame P:” Oh, oh. Oh. Oh. _Oh,_ so – oh. Dear me. I see. So she’s really just your friend?”  
   Me: ”…confident. I am fairly sure she is my ‘confident’.”  
   Madame P: ”Oh, well. Oh. I see, dear. Oh. Just – oh.”  
   Madame P: pisses off.  
   Fuck my entire existence.  
   Just.  
   Am going to start re-reading the Lord of the Rings.

* * *

 

**_November 25 th, midnight, my cold, uncomfortable Hospital Wing Bed. _ **

 Am still in this bloody place.  
   It is cold, and there are practically no bloody blankets on this bed, and I am totally not fantasising about being in Harmony’s ridiculously warm, squashy, comfy bed right now with Potter.  
   Would imagine being in Potter’s bed only I am fairly sure Potter would be the kind to leave crumbs and bits of parchment and broken quills and month old sweets and dirty socks in his bed.  
   Am trying and failing miserably not to think about what Potter would feel like curled up beside me, all knobbly knees and wild hair and soft lips and smelling like apples and strawberries because I got a whiff of him last month and he smells really good and -   
   I. NEED. HELP. On the bright side, both my broken legs finally finished healing today. Usually Madame P can heal bones in an instant, but apparently my bones are special and took extra-long because I took such a fabulous fall.  
   Have not slept for two days because of cold.  
   Tomorrow, when legs are strong enough to walk on, I think I will sneak off into Harmony’s bed.  
   Harmony would probably let me because Potter and the Weasel are not talking to her because of some sort of drama about a cat, a rat and lots of bullshit. Also, her furry sister pushed me out a window.  
   Speaking of, Rosie came to visit me today. Finally.  
   I thought she had been punched in both eyes at first and I was fully prepared to leap out of bed on faulty legs and hex whoever did it into kingdom come, but it turned out Rosie was wearing what she calls ‘eye makeup’.  
   She looked truly frightening. Informed me Davies had given her a ‘makeover’ and I should support her life choices.  
   Rosie really is very adorable. She’s a bit like a rabid squirrel.  
   Actually, Rosie is a _lot_ like a rabid squirrel.  
   And Harmony is like an angry grizzly bear.  
   …and Weasel is a, well, a weasel.  
   Potter could probably pass as an otter. …I have said it before. I will say it again.  
   I am insane, and I need help.  
   Anyway, Rosie. She actually apologised to me. For tossing me out that window.  
   I wonder what kind of animal I am.  
   I need to sleep.


	4. "I did not have sex with the Hogwarts Castle."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I did have sex with the Hogwarts Castle."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer's block? I know not of your "writer's block". Seriously, I am amazed at my own ability to spew seemingly endless bullshit. Anyway, the chapter.   
> Thanks again to Kaeyi. I can't believe someone is actually reading this. And enjoying it.

**_December 2 nd, midnight, locked in a broom closet. _ **

I was finally released from hospital wing this morning.  
   I am healed, more or less. I am also locked, wandless, in a broom closet, writing by candlelight, but I will explain that later.  
   On a much more important note, I saved Potter’s life earlier today.  
   Well, not really. But I saved him a few bruises and that’s almost the same thing. He tripped in the corridor. I didn’t even trip him. But I caught him before he fell over.  
   I heard Weasel yell his name like he was going to _die_ or something, and Harmony’s frightened, worried gasp from down the hall turn into a giggle.  
   Set Potter on feet. Accidentally said something rude and insulting. Got sworn at by Weasel, insulted his mother, and made a run (fast limp…my legs are still sore) for it.  
   Harmony gave me a knowing look as I went past her.  
   Stupid mudblood. Just because she smuggles me muggle books, Harmony thinks we are friends. We kind of are. I don't even know.  
   Also, have been invited to spend Christmas with the Grangers. Apparently Rosie has been writing home about me (scary thought, isn’t it?) and her parents want to ‘meet the lovely boy that has made our youngest daughter feel so happy and accepted at Hogwarts and Hermione never brings her friends home so there is plenty of room and we’d love to have you’.  
   Granger parents sent letter separately to me so neither Rosie nor Harmony knew about it. Both begged me not to go. Was tempted to just to piss them off, but my father would likely have entire Granger family killed if I did so am not going.  
   Wonder what Granger family would do if they knew that that ‘lovely boy’ had bullied Harmony for years.  
   Am considering apologising to Harmony for being such a Hippogriff’s arse to her.  
   I must have hit my head really, really hard.  
   Anyway, the broom closet I am currently locked in.  
   Rosie reckons she found the entrance to a secret passageway behind the painting of Albert the Addle-headed (who is, in fact, a Weasley that lived about three hundred years ago, go figure) and she wanted me to help her get into it.  
      Should have known this was a bad idea.  
   But, as I have said, Rosie is really adorable in a tiny, mad, furry rabid-squirrel kind of way and she gave me huge puppy-crup eyes and I could not refuse.  
   So after curfew we snuck out of the Slytherin Dungeons, up to the second floor. Well, we got distracted because Rosie spent ages cooing over this huge, shaggy black mutt that was hanging around the entrance hall, which then followed us up to where Rosie reckoned the entrance to the secret passage way was.  
   Wonder who the mutt belongs too. Some stupid Hufflepuff, no doubt. Too stupid to understand what ‘Owl OR cat OR toad’ meant. Maybe it belongs to a Weasley; am fairly sure that ‘rat’ is not on list of allowed pets.  
   Then again, in first year Zabini tried to smuggle a meerkat in, so the mutt could be anyone’s.  
   So me and Rosie and this huge mutt are standing around in a cold corridor, Rosie waving my wand at this completely ordinary stretch of wall, having forgotten to bring her own, muttering nonsense words as I kept a lookout for Filch or prefects or ghosts, when suddenly the wall opens up and Rosie squeals in delight because she was actually right.  
   Huh. How about that, eh? So Rosie runs into the secret passage way, _with my wand in her hand,_ and the wall closed in around her.  
   So Hogwarts castle ate my little mudblood friend, and, more importantly, my wand.  
   And right then Filch’s cat came around corner.  
   Ran for it.  
   Could hear both Filch and cat giving chase. Ran for quite some time until sore legs would not hold me anymore; legs gave out, fell like sack of potatoes. Managed to crawl into nearby broom cupboard and slam door, accidentally locking self in.  
   On bright side, managed to loose Filch.  
   I hate my life.

**_2.30 am, I have no idea where we are._ **

Rosie did not get eaten by Hogwarts castle.  
   Well, she did, but it was kind enough to spit her out again.  
   Apparently the mutt guided Rosie to my broom cupboard, where she found me fast asleep. Woke me up, gave me my wand back, muttered something that sounded a lot like “I have set my own pants on fire far too many times” and dragged me back to the entrance to the secret passage way.  
   _And Merlin’s bloody balls, I let her lead me down it_.  
   The mutt came too. Rosie’s pants are all scorched. Don’t want to let self wonder why.  
   Legs are aching like bitch. Can’t ask Rosie if we can stop trekking through the castle walls for a few minutes so I can rest because I am a manly man and cannot falter now.  
   The mutt seems to have attached itself to Rosie. Is licking her hand as we walk along. It probably has fleas.  
   Inch backwards as to get away from its’ wagging tail.  
   Am a Malfoy. Would absolutely _die_ if I got fleas off some mutt.  
   Casually say to Rosie, “Do you know that a huge, mudblood-eating snake lives in the walls?”  
   “It was a basilisk, you fucking idiot,” Rosie replies, calmly. “And your dearly beloved Potter stuck a sword into its brain, remember?”  
   Can’t help but love her just a little.  
   Am still blaming Potter for all this.

**_2.52 am, Slytherin Common Room_ **

Hogwarts Castle got sick of us roaming around inside of her (is castle a her? Felt like a her when I was inside of her. Merlin’s beard that sounds wrong _I did not have sex with the Hogwarts Castle_ ).  
   Ahem. Anyway, she got sick of us and spat us out in the common room. Convinced Rosie to go get some sleep. Crazy little nocturnal mudblood.  
   Am hanging around in common room with the mutt. It’s running around smelling everything.  
   Crazy dog.

* * *

 

**_December 4 th, midday, Great Hall. _ **

Mm, lunch.  
   Crabbe and Goyle are _pigs._ Disgusting, greedy, pigs.  
   Am sitting across from Nott and Zabini. Nott is gazing at him with undisguised…something.  
   Zabini is still wearing fedora. Has stuck feathers into brim.  
   Merlin’s balls.  
   Had potions with Gryffindorks today. Accidentally acted friendly with Harmony.  
   Oops.  
   Her fault, though. Came and sat down next to me and wanted to know if I’d really found another secret passage with her furry little squirrel sister. Told her about having sex with the Hogwarts Castle. Made her laugh like a loon.  
   Freaked the fuck out of Potter and Weasley, who were, as always, lurking about behind Harmony.  
   Confused the fuck out of Snape. Poor bastard. Could do with a good wash.  
   Might slip him brochure for beauty witch. Or some shampoo.

**_4.19pm, Slytherin Common Room._ **

Am getting yelled at by Pansy.  
   “…I thought I was your girlfriend, not some mudblood tart…wait ‘till your father hears about this, you’ll be disowned…I can’t believe I ever _loved_ you.”  
   Blah, blah, blah, hang on.  
   “Harmony is not a tart, you horrible pug-faced bitch!”  
   Wait, who yelled that?  
   Oh. _Oh._ It was me.  
   Um.  
   Wow.  
   Whole common room staring at me. Am glad Rosie is not here.  
   Davies, however, is. She starts clapping. Um. She stops. But she’s beaming at me.  
   Zabini says, “Who’s Harmony?”  
   I am so done with these people.

**_4.55pm, Gryffindor Common Room._ **

I am in the den of the enemy. It is a nice den; very warm, very cosy.  
   It was unsettlingly easy to get into the enemy’s den. I just had to knock on the common room door until some first year answered. Made him get me Harmony. Told Harmony, “I have stood up for you to Pansy Pug-face. I will be kicked out of Slytherin House and murdered by my father. May I enter your den?”  
   “You are incredibly strange,” Harmony informs me. This I already know.  
   Harmony lets me in. Could kiss her. Do not, since I am probably gay. For _Potter,_ of all people.  
   Speaking of which, he’s sitting across from me in an armchair. Staring at me. Confused. He doesn’t understand why I’m here. He’s taking it better than Weasley; Rosie had to curse him to stop him from attacking me. Rosie, as I have mentioned, is frighteningly good at curses. Magic in general, not so much. But curses? They’re her _talent_. Weasley’s brothers, the twins, had to take him to hospital wing. They growled threats at me all the way out. Charming people, these Gryffindors.    
   “All Slytherins are Evil.” That’s their motto. Do they realise how close it is to “All muggles are stupid and worthless animals”?  
   They call us the bad guys, but they’re equally as prejudiced.   
   Potter is still staring at me. I keep glancing up. Our eyes keep meeting. He’s got such pretty eyes.   
   He’s blushing, now. Oh Merlin this is my chance to make my move what do I do what do I do -  
   “I’m heading down to dinner, and to check on Ron,” Harmony announces. “Are you guys coming?”  
   By ‘guys’, she means Potter, me, Longbottom (who’s staring at me in something like terror and inching further and further away from me), the female Weasel, and her furry little sister.  
   I am one of Harmony’s ‘guys’. What the fucking hell happened to my life? Potter happened, that’s what.  
   Oh. They’re all staring at me, waiting for an answer.  
   “Yeah, whatever,” I say. “One dinner’s not going to infect me with any filth, right?”   
   “He’s not actually nasty,” Harmony stage-whispers before Potter can have a go at me. “He’s just insecure.”  
   Hate her.  
   Merlin’s balls, Potter looks nice with his cheeks all flustered with anger. If only they were flustered for another reason -   
   “Are you going to dinner with us or not, loser?”   
   The female Weasley. Gryffindor girls are so _feisty._ Even though _loser_ is probably the worst swear she knows – no, no, she just proved me wrong. Merlin, she’s got a mean mouth on her. Wasn’t she some shy little flower who almost got eaten by that snake last year? Apparently being possessed by the Dark Lord gives you balls.  
   I’m going to stop writing and go to dinner with them now.

**_Midnight, Slytherin Boys Dorm._ **

Am surprisingly still alive. It was surprisingly simple to blackmail and threaten all my housemates into silence. Too easy. They’ve probably already sold me out to my father.  
   Sigh.  
   Dinner with the Gryffindors was a v. traumatising ordeal. Do not want to talk about.  
   Apart from the bit where I made Potter laugh. I made him LAUGH.  
   I will not swoon. I am a Malfoy.  
   Also, I got verbally attacked by the Gryffindor who commentates the Quidditch matches. I don’t know his name. Don’t care. Has the ridiculous trademark friend-of-Potter hair.  
   Dreadlocks, really? Is his filthy half-blood family so poor they can’t afford _combs_?  
   Honestly, these people.  
   Caught head of house giving me strange looks all through dinner. Am definitely going to slip him some shampoo. Perhaps as a Christmas gift?  
   I think I may have a death wish.  
   Sigh.

* * *

 

**_7 th December, 4.26pm, you get three guesses as to where I am. _ **

I have had it up to HERE with the fucking Hospital Wing. Because I’m fucking IN the hospital wing. Again.   
   Fuck my entire existence.   
   So, I think I have friends now. Said friends are Davies (a pimply half-blood and tree-hugger), Rosie (a furry, psychotic mudblood), Harmony (an angry grizzly bear in the guise of a fourteen year old girl), Crabbe (a gorilla in a tie) and Goyle (a slightly smaller gorilla in a tie) and some random little second year who’s got a crush on Rosie, of all people.  
   His name is ‘Colin’. Am fairly sure he is a mudblood too.  
   Sigh.  
   Last few days have been suspiciously uneventful. Have received no threats from family, have not been attacked by any upper-house-men. V. confused.  
   Was dragged by new ‘friends’ to a ‘picnic’. Was not sure what a ‘picnic’ was until was bodily dragged there by Davies. Crabbe and Goyle trailed behind. Could possibly smell food from long distance away. Suspect they have some kind of snack-radar (learnt what a radar was yesterday. Am in mild shock).  
   Anyway, was feeling vaguely uncomfortable at this ‘picnic’. Was trying not to sit too close to any mudbloods and watching ‘Colin’ try to flirt with Rosie and sharing amused glances with Harmony.  
   And then I saw a spider crawling across the grass about an inch away from me. A huge, black, hairy spider.  
   Shrieked very manly shriek. Threw self to feet. Tried to run away. Tripped over picnic blanket. Landed on rock hidden in grass.  
   Knocked self out.  
   Woke up in hospital wing.  
   Madame P and I are getting very familiar. She has put a plaque over one of the beds that says ‘Draco’s Bed’. She thinks she is funny. Glare at her. Insult her parents. Not v. effective as I am slightly concussed and used Rosie’s “Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries.”.  
   Can definitely do better.  
   Had a nap. Woke up to ex-girlfriend sobbing my bedside and begging me not to die. Stare at her in confusion.  
   Pansy (sobbing): “I’m so sorry, Drakie, please don’t die. I love you and I’ll take you back PLEASE DON’T DIE.”  
   Stare a bit more. Madame P is trying not to stare from the other side of the room.  
   Pansy: notices I am awake.  
   Pansy: “I’m sorry I love you I’ll take you back please forgive me and don’t have your father kill us all.”  
   Stare. Wish she’d go away. Is making my head throb.  
   Harmony appears in doorway.  
   Me: is still fairly concussed. Has a brainwave. Me: “Piss off. I’m not going to take you back. _You_ dumped _me_. And I don’t even like you. Also, I’m – I’m in love with Harmony.”  
   Harmony (softly):” You really do have a death wish, don’t you?”  
   I am too concussed to deal with any of this.

* * *

 

**_10 th December, 9.22am, Potions Dungeon. _ **

Am fairly sure entire House thinks I have gone insane. Probably have. Am currently making a potion with Harmony and Potter (Merlin, he’s cute up close).  
   Whole House has been giving me funny looks all week. Have bribed and/or threatened all of them into silence. Except for Davies. Davies is ‘following my lead’ and hanging around Gryffindors. Someone Brown and someone who I’m fairly sure has a Ravenclaw twin. They made disturbing close friends, disturbingly fast. They call each other ‘Parv’ and ‘Lav’ and ‘Trace’.  
   Potter keeps sending me confused little glances and whispering to Harmony “I don’t understand why he’s here. I don’t understand why you’re friends with him. He’s _Malfoy_. We hate Malfoy, remember?”  
   And Harmony keeps whispering back, “Shh, I don’t want to get in trouble off Snape.”  
   And on cue Snape says, “Something to share… with the class… Miss Granger? I thought… not. Ten points… from –“  
   “I was just telling Granger how I think you need a wash, sir,” I interrupt. “Badly. Have you ever heard of shampoo, sir?” Whole class falls into silence. The Weasel, working a few tables away with a mudblood and that one Gryffindor who’s always setting things on fire (Flannigan? Finnegan? He’s Irish), looks at me like I’ve grown another head. Smile at him. Cheerily.  
   Snape is v. confused. “Ten… points… from…Slytherin?” it comes out a question.  
   “If you like,” I tell him. “And I’ll buy you some _Head and Shoulders_ from Christmas, sir.”   
   Rosie taught me about _Head and_ _Shoulders_ the other day. Harmony is giggling into pot  
ion. Potter is staring at me. Stare back.  
   “Who are you?” he asks after a long time. “And what have you done with Draco Malfoy?”  
   “I could tell you,” I tell him seriously. “But I’d have to kill you.”  
   And Potter cracks a smile. _He cracks a smile_. He’s still really suspicious, of course, but he _smiles_. At me.  
   Progress.  
   Feel a bit delirious. May be from potion fumes, or maybe from my concussion. But is probably from Potter.  
   Harmony says softly, “Awww.”  
   Glare at her.  
   Across the room, Finnegan’s potion explodes into bright blue flames.  
   Ah, Gryffindors. Always good for entertainment.  
   Note: must… ask…Snape…why… he… talks…so…slowly.


	5. "His name is Hubert, and he wants you to respect his life choices."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "His name is Hubert, and he wants you to respect his life choices."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter today, but I promise the next one will make up for it. Also, I've ran out of pre-written chapters, so updates my get less frequent. Sorry. Also, I seem to be beating Draco up more and more as I go along - oops?  
> Thanks to: everyone who has subscribed and/or left kudos, Alicia+Torres (I will finish this, I promise), Rosa (thank you HEAPS, Rosa), and of course Kaeyi (no, you're the amazing one, and also pronouns are overrated).

**_15 th December, 2.39 pm, Hogwarts Grounds. _ **

Am bunking off class. Have been doing that a lot lately, to the point where I don’t even know _what_ class I’m bunking off. Professors either don’t care or assume I’m in the hospital wing. Think they have given up on me.  
   Don’t really care.  
   Rosie is sitting next to me, singing and patting that big shaggy mutt. She has named it ‘Hubert’. Mutt does not seem to mind. Small hairy mudblood is starting to read this over my shoulder. She says, “You have _horrible_ grammar.”  
   Stare at her. Ask, “What exactly is ‘grammar’?”  
   Rosie stares back. Says with disgust, “ _Purebloods.”  
   _Mutt whines at her. Say to them both, “Shut up.” Can feel funny feeling on back of neck. Look over shoulder. Scream. Dive behind shrub. Manage not to knock self out. Self deserves a pat on the back.  
   Rosie is saying, “What the hell are you doing _now_?”  
   Me: “Nott.”  
   “Not what?”  
   Me: “Not ‘not’ _._ Nott.”  
   Rosie (grinning): “Who’s there?”  
   “ _Nott_ , you half-wit!”  
   “Not _what_?”  
   “Not ‘not’. Nott. _Nott._ ”  
   Rosie (chocking on laughter): “NOT WHAT?”  
   Nott (behind Rosie): Hey, guys.  
   Rosie: screams.  
   Rosie: dives _into_ shrub.  
   Rosie: “Oh. Oh. _Nott_. Heh, I thought you were going for a knock-knock joke.” Then: “Ow, I got a thorn up my –“  
   Am not going to write down what she said. Don’t really understand what it means, anyway.   
   Rosie climbs out of shrub. Faces Nott. Only comes up to his chest. Says, “What do _you_ want?”  
   “Just saying hello,” says Nott, flashing his pointy rat-teeth in what he probably thinks is a smile. Well, it’s either that or he’s threatening to eat us.  
   “You said it. Now piss off.”  
   I love my savage little first-year friend.  
   “Sure,” Nott says. Does not piss off. “Hey, Draco?”  
   Me (from behind shrub): “What?”  
   “You should be a bit more careful about who sees you with your filthy mudblood friends. One of them might,” (I would like to add here that _I_ saw Rosie drawing her wand, but Nott did not), “write home to your dad about it. Or rather take things into their own hands.”  
   Rosie: mutters incantation.  
   Nott: spontaneously sprouts large purple tentacles. Screams very girly scream. Stumbles back. Says, “I will get you for this, mudblood.” Rosie (cheerfully): “Looking forward to it, Doctor Octopus.”  
   Nott slinks off, tentacles waving.  
   I am trying very hard not to laugh. Very, very hard.  
   Me (has a thought): “Wait, what is ‘Doctor Octopus’?”   
   Rosie (looking at me with shame and disgust): “You’ve never heard off – of course you haven’t. _Pureblood._ Come on, I’m going to introduce you to the world of Stanley.”  
    Stanley? Who is

**_8.30 pm, Slytherin Boy’s Dorms._ **

I apologise; Rosie dragged me away before I could finish the sentence.  
   Stan Lee (two words, not one, as my crazy little friend drilled into me) is a muggle. He writes ‘comic books’ – picture books for grown, adult, probably very nerdy muggles.  
   Would be a liar if I said I did not enjoy the ones Rosie leant me – she has a _huge_ collection in her trunk. Hundreds of them.  
   “Wreck any and I’ll kill you,” she promised me when she gave me some. Am inclined to take her seriously.  
   Nott is still in hospital wing. Probably; he’s not here. Zabini is v. relieved; he’s been going around in the same clothes for almost a week because he’s too afraid to get changed or use the baths with Nott around. Thank god for Rosie - Zabini was starting to smell.  
   Scared the shit out of him by slipping into the bathroom when he was in there and whispering in a pretty good impersonation of Nott’s voice, “Blaise? Blaaaaise.”  
   He screamed. Tossed a towel at my head when he saw it was me. Called me a bastard. But he was laughing in a relieved sort of way.  
   “Be nice to me,” I said. “I could easily kill your fedora from here.” Waved wand at said fedora, hung up on one of the little metal hooks along the walls.  
   Zabini said, “Don’t even _think_ about it. Now get out of here, you pervert. I’m naked.”  
   Me: “I’m insulted you’d even _think_ that of me – I only have eyes for one.”  
   Zabini (smirking): “Harry Potter, right?”  
   Me: Chokes on air.  
   Zabini: “The whole damn school knows, Malfoy. Now piss off and let me have my fucking bath.”  
   Me: pisses off.  
   Merlin, please don’t let me like Zabini. In a friendly way, I mean. _I only have eyes for one_.  
   The whole school can’t _know_ – I am confident that the Weasel and all of Hufflepuff house are too stupid to work it out, and too thick to believe it even if some furry little mudblood shouted it out at breakfast.   
   Right?  
   Right?  
   Fuck.

* * *

 

**_16 th December, midday, the Three Broomsticks. _ **

Has been a whole week since I’ve been in the Hospital Wing. Am v. impressed with myself.  
   Am Christmas shopping for ‘friends’. Don’t know why people harp on about Christmas shopping – it’s v. easy.  
   So far have brought: sweets, lots and lots of them, for Crabbe, Goyle and Rosie. An expensive quill (more expense than she’s ever seen) for Harmony. A red leather collar with matching engraved nametag for Rosie to put on that mutt. Madame Zucker’s Magical Pimple Vanishing Potion, for Davies. A real silver-and-diamond bracelet for Rosie (I may have spoiled her a bit; I don’t really care, because I have more money than can be counted and for the first time, friends to spend it on). And finally, _A Hundred Useful Curses and Protective Spells_ by Freddie Bones, for Zabini, to help with his Nott problem.  
   Debated getting something for Potter; decided it would be too weird. Also, am terrified of rejection.  
   Am sitting with Davies and Rosie right now; told them to piss off when I was getting their presents so they didn’t see them, but we’ve been together pretty much all morning. Crabbe and Goyle are following us around and making eyes at each other; if one of them tries to kiss the butterbeer foam off the other’s lips, I will legitimately kill them both.

**_2.15 pm, Hogsmeade Village._ **

Just walked by a bookstore; saw _The Poor Wizard’s Guide to Making Money, Fast!_ By J. Anderson in the window. Brought it for the Weasel; will attach a note saying ‘You need all the help you can get’.  
   Found in the store, _An Accurate and Complete History of Hogwarts School_ by Bathilda Bagshot. Brought it for Harmony, since she’s always lugging around _Hogwarts: A History_ and _An Accurate And Complete History_ is basically the extended addition.  
   I think I may have a fever; I’m being so _nice_.  
   Ask Davies to check my temperature. She puts her hand of my forehead and says dramatically, “I’m sorry, Malfoy, but you’re suffering from a severe case of No Longer A Complete Dickhead Syndrome.”  
   Me: “Is it fatal?”  
   Davies: “I’m afraid so. You’ve got two weeks, tops.”  
   I was about to say something v. witty and funny is response, but was interrupted by something invisible ploughing down a group of carollers a few metres away, Harmony and the Weasel tearing after it.  
   ???????  
   Was about to ask Rosie if she knew what was going on, but she threw a snowball in my face before I could open my mouth.  
   Such lovely friends.  
   In the ensuring snowball fight, forgot all about the invisible menace injuring innocent carollers (who were mostly Hufflepuffs, so I approve).  
   Wonder where Potter is.

* * *

 

**_17 th December, 11.15am, Hogwarts Grounds. _ **

It is v. cold. Should be inside packing bags – it’s the last day of term before Christmas Holidays – but can’t be arsed. Will bribe house-elf into doing tonight.  
   Had a v. strange encounter with Potter and the mutt and Rosie earlier. Mutt has taken to following Rosie around, begging scraps from the kitchen, and we passed Potter in the corridor. He stopped dead, staring at the mutt.  
   “I’ve seen that dog before,” he said slowly. “The night I left Privet Drive, I saw that dog – wait, why is it wearing a feather boa?”  
   “He’s my dog,” said Rosie, hauntingly. “His name is Hubert, and he wants you to respect his life choices.”  
   The mutt didn’t exactly have a choice about the bright pink feather boa, but it doesn’t seem to mind.  
   “I saw it in Surrey,” says Potter, stubbornly. Rosie says, “Piss off, you didn’t.”  
   Ever so eloquent, my friend Rosie.  
   Potter says, “Shouldn’t you be packing?”  
   “Shouldn’t you?”  
   “I’m not going back to Surry. I never do.”  
   And all this time I stood there, awkwardly, off to the side, trying to think of something clever and charming to say.  
   Finally, I found it. Me: “Don’t even the muggles want, you Potter? Can’t blame them, really.”  
   No. No. No. NO. Shit. THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT TO SAY.  
   Potter: “Insecure. Yeah, kind of seeing it now.”  
   And he walks off, leaving me in shocked, offended disbelieve, Rosie and the mutt giggling. (Normal dogs don’t _giggle_ , right? That’s not a dog thing. Even I know that much.)  
   Rosie stopped giggling when she saw the look on my face. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go for a walk, and you can whine about that _awful_ snub from the love of your life,” pause. “Hey, didja get me anything for Christmas?”  
   Glare at her.  
   “Oh, come on,” she said. “It’s _Christmas –_ smile, you rich bastard. And you’d better have gotten me something or I will be practising my Bat Bogey hex on your privates.”  
   Lovely girl, is Rosaline Granger.

**_Midnight, hiding in Rosie’s Dorm._ **

Can’t go to my _own_ dorm, because Nott is quite possibly waiting there with a group of upper-house-men to gang bash me. Was warned by Zabini, who caught my arm just before I walked in to my own dorm and told me about the Seventh Years sitting on my bed with their wands in hand and nasty looks on their faces.  
   Sigh. Can’t a guy get a decent night’s sleep around here anymore without being (probably) spelled into a sea-cucumber by a bunch of racist, prejudiced, over-developed apes?  
   This is all Potter’s fault. And Rosie’s.  
   Small first year girl in Rosie’s dorm just said to me, “You’ve got really lovely hair. Where do you get it done?”  
   Give her name of Mother’s beauty witch. Girl replied, “Oh, my parents went to her before she got caught consorting with a _vampire­_ – getting it to bite her, they heard,” pause. “You might want to go elsewhere, from now on. My mother sees this one witch –“  
   And so I spent fifteen minutes talking beauty witches with a little first year girl who identified herself as Astoria Greengrass.  
   Knew her sister, Daphne, before she transferred to Beauxbatons last year. No one really knows why; asked Astoria.  
   “Oh, she was having problems with this guy, he was following her around and pinching her bum when she bent over and stuff, and he wouldn’t stop no matter how much she threatened him and he was spreading nasty rumours about her and she was getting bullied and then he came into the girls bathroom while she was showering and tried to feel her up and she hexed him but he still wouldn’t stop following her around so she transferred.” Merlin, this girl can _talk.  
_    Me: “That guy, he wasn’t named ‘Nott’ by any chance, was he?”  
   Astoria: “Yeah, I think he was, the weedy-looking one, in your year? I heard from Lydia Rosier that he’s been in trouble with the muggle Aurors - please-men, are they called? - before because one summer –“  
   Me: “Rosie, I think you and I need to have a little chat to Nott sometime soon.”  
   I have really fucking had it with him. Am going to march back to own dorm and beat _him_ up. Will have to take Rosie with me. Cannot curse like she can. No one can.  
   Me: “Rosie, I am going to selflessly confront Nott about his creeper ways. He may or may not have a band of aggressive, ape-like Seventh Years to back him up. Are you with me, Rosie?”  
   Rosie: “Fuck, no.”  
   I will valiantly to it alone, then.

**_2.15, Hospital Wing._ **

Got the snot beaten out of me. Also, broke my ‘Staying Out Of The Hospital Wing’ streak.  
    Am never going to attempt to be valiant again.


	6. "No, you're Lady Galadriel."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "No, you're Lady Galadriel."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I'm sorry for the wait. So very sorry. But – it’s Christmas at the Malfoyyyyyyys.   
>  Thanks to:  
> • everyone who has subscribed, bookmarked, left kudos, etc.  
> • Skylar_Serket – oh my fucking god THANK YOU. I shall eagerly await your one million comments.   
> • Kaeyi - I don’t understand half the things you say to me (dragon breaking out of egg?????) but I love you anyway. Thanking you endlessly.   
> • Siobhandragonsmother – there shall be more. And then more. And more and more and more. Do not fear.  
> • VulpineVandal – Your comment gave me an idea for a future chapter. Thanks! *blows kiss*  
> • Rosa – *giggles gleefully* just you wait to see how the Sirius stuff happens. There will be randomness, blood, and a snog. I has it all planned out.

**_18 th December, 12:12pm, Hogwarts Express. _ **

I hate trains. I really, really, really hate trains. Am considering blowing up this _damn_ train just so I can get off it. Rosie has started a sing-along. A _sing-along_. With Crabbe, Goyle, and Davies, but I think Davies is just going along to piss me off. Is working _wonderfully._ Glare at them all. Wish I did not buy them Christmas presents. Wish I did not have to go back to mansion where Potter is most definitely _not_.  
   Speaking of Potter, his ‘best mate’ took a swing at me earlier when I gave him the ‘Get Rich Quick’ book. Harmony, on the other hand, hugged me when I gave her hers.  
   Hope I don’t catch anything from her. Would really ruin – _OW._ I apologise. I just got kicked by Rosie, very hard, on my kneecap. In between singing horrible Christmas carols she has been reading this over my shoulder. Am v. glad her sister is staying at school with the red ones and my beloved and that mutt that Rosie put a fake beard and tiara on before we left – have a feeling she would go all grizzly-bear-with-a-wand on me and after last night (I’m not going into last night. I am NOT) I am not in the mood for being cursed and/or beaten up.  
   On that note, am v. glad Rosie only kicked me in kneecap and not a little further up and to the centre. Shuddering at idea of that.  
   Wonder what it would be like if Potter was near that area of me…no, bad brain. Stop that.

**_12.36pm, in a compartment full of Hufflepuffs._ **

Rosie managed to set other compartment on fire. Don’t even want to think about it _this damn girl will be the death of me._ Think Finnegan (Flanagan?) has lost his title of Hogwarts Arsonist. Rosie has surpassed him by _setting fire to her own trousers and  
_    I don’t want to think about it. Positively _reek_ of smoke. Am a Malfoy. Should smell like musk and – and – expensive beauty potions and piles and piles of money.    Sigh. Have a ‘killer’ headache (Rosie’s words, not mind, where does she _find_ these expressions?) because I ran into door trying to escape fire that tiny scary mudblood started and almost knocked myself out. _Almost_.  
   Am v. proud. Even though I have a lump the size of Harmony’s brain (i.e. very big) on my forehead.  
   Am being offered a strawberry by a Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff in question is a half-blood. Will cautiously accept. Am v. fond of strawberries.

**_1.02pm,_ **

Am covered in strawberry pulp. Note to self – never have fruit in the presence of Rosie Granger. _She will start a fruit fight.  
_    Am filthy, and cranky, and my face feels weird. Catch glimpse of reflection in train window. I am _smiling_. Huh.  
   Crabbe just licked bit of strawberry off Goyle’s neck. They are smiling shyly at each other. Am going to Avada them both.  
   Rosie looks like she has murdered something – is coated head to toe in red goop. “I’m going to go find Colin,” she announced a few seconds ago, and is pissing off to find – her boyfriend? I don’t even know. Note: must track down Rosie’s little boyfriend and make sure he understands that if he breaks her heart I will _destroy_ him and they will never find the body. Would probably have to get into line after Harmony, though. Hey, we could be a team – _Harmony and Malfoy, Murderers For Hire_. _Destroying Ex-Boyfriends For A Reasonable Price!_  
   I think I may have a concussion.  
   People are screaming somewhere down the train, no doubt at Rosie and her axe-murderer appearance.  
   Sigh.

**_2.14pm,_ **

“Who the fucking hell gave Nott TENTACLES?! Do you have any idea what he’s tried to DO to ME?!?!”  
   Zabini, storming up and down the train. Oh, that poor, poor (actually quite rich) boy.  
   “Zabini, come in here. I have a Christmas present for you.”  
   I’m so nice.

**_2.45pm,_ **

I want off this fucking train.  
   Think I may have accidentally befriended Zabini. Crabbe and Goyle have pissed off to the bathroom to ‘clean each other off’. Don’t even want to THINK about what that may mean.  
   Am left alone with Davies and Zabini. V. awkward silence. Want off this train.  
   Davies: “So, Malfoy, gotten anywhere with Potter yet?”  
   Oh, we are _not_ going to talk about my (lack of a) love life. We are _not_.

**_2.50pm,_ **

We’re talking about my (lack of a) love life.

**_3.02pm,_ **

I think Davies and Zabini are _flirting_. Merlin’s saggy arse, this is _wrong.  
_    Davies and Zabini. Crabbe and Goyle. Rosie and ‘Colin’. Harmony even has her love-hate-neither thing with the Weasel.  
   All my friends are pairing off. Not fair. They should at least _wait_ until I’ve got Potter.  
   ….Merlin’s beard, I am _arrogant._ And selfish. Sigh. I liked it better when I didn’t care that I am arrogant and selfish and didn’t care that I didn’t care and my hair’s getting a bit out of control I think I need a trim. Hang on, maybe if I grew it a little longer I’d get the friend-of-Potter hair? Or maybe I’d just start looking like my father, and by extension, Lady Galadriel?  
   ….I am so done with my entire life.

**_4.05pm,_ **

We are pulling into the station. I repeat, we are pulling into the station. _I have made it! Alive!_  
   Am still slightly sticky from strawberries. Cannot wait for luxurious spa bath complete with jasmine-and-rose scented bubbles and complete, utter, blissful silence.    I love being a Malfoy. Oh, look, out there on the platform. It’s our newest house-elf, Dolly or something. My parents have not come to pick me up. Then again, they never do.  
   If/when I have a kid I will always see them off at train station. Just saying.

**_4.14pm, Malfoy Manor, in my lovely spa bath._ **

Ahh, home. Bless Apparation. Bless Mother and Father for not being home to greet me. Bless jasmine-and-rose scented bubbles and hot water. Bless complete, utter, blissful silence.  
   …Merlin’s beard, I think I’m missing the noise of Hogwarts and my weird, possible insane, ‘friends’.  
   I need help.  
   But bubble bath first.

**_4.17pm,_ **

I will not think of Potter while I’m naked in the spa bath. I will not, I will not.  
   Fuck it. I will.

* * *

 

**_20 th December, midday, My Wing, Malfoy Manor. _ **

Holidays are v. boring. Have been writing to small furry mudblood and receiving many pages of writing I can’t read in reply and keeping her happy by responding ‘how fascinating, Rosie, do tell me more.’. Hope I am not incriminating myself in anything illegal. Knowing Rosie, probably am.  
   Took off on broom yesterday and just flew round grounds of manor. Flew and flew and flew to places I didn’t even knew existed before – we have a freaking _forest_ , with a pond, and a bench, and there’s probably a lot of small furry creatures not unlike my friend Rosie there in the summer.  
   By the time I got back to the manor it was past dinner and I was blue in the face. If not for house-elf magic would probably lost several toes.  
   Sigh. Parents did not even notice I was gone, apparently. They’re just so _loving,_ aren’t they? Have no idea where these thoughts came from. Used to think my parents were the best things since Merlin.  
   Am going to blame Potter.

* * *

 

**_24 rd December, Midday, Parlour. _ **

House-elves decorating huge, towering Christmas tree. Father standing over elves and shouting at them. Stupid elves. They’ve not been here long and we got them cheap after Dobby so they’re inbred (like I can talk) and sub-substandard and kind of really dumb. One just tripped over its own feet, fell into friend/sister/cousin/lover/possibly all of the above, started a chain reaction and – and, oh, yes, the huge towering Christmas tree is going down. Slowly, surely, to close to me for comf

**_12.25pm, Bed_. **

Have been sentenced to be in bed for foreseeable future. Got hit on head with Christmas tree branch. Bled all over expensive rug. Mother is ticked off at me. Never mind that I almost DIED (not really but COME ON, MOTHER).  
   Healer from Mungo’s was called. Middle aged witch I am fairly sure is the Greengrass matriarch, because she has the whole so-black-it’s-blue hair and pale eyes thing going on and also because she won’t stop talking.  
   Snippet of what she has been chatting one-sidedly to me about as she patches up my head: “…nasty head wound, still, though, seen much worse; I was Matron of Hogwarts in my day, did you know, saw some injuries, I did, those moving stairs, don’t know what the Founders were thinking there, death traps, they are, and oh, there were these four boys, back in the ‘70’s, in my care every week for something or another – of course, Lupin couldn’t help it, what with his condition, but his friends, and his young man, that Sirius Black, such a charming boy – reckless, of course, but charming – and so _nice,_ but then he went and blew up all those muggles so I guess he wasn’t that nice after all…”  
   blah, bah, blah, blah. Wait what? Lupin’s got some kind of condition? Being poor and ill-bred, no doubt. Maybe there’s a treatment? Might make Rosie a little less, you know, insane.  
   Speaking of Grangers, got a parcel of books in the mail earlier today from Harmony, who I could kiss. Well, probably not. Germs, you know. But still. Lots and lots of muggle books. Mother asked what they were and why I had them. Told them it was a stupid joke on behalf of well-bred, respected pureblood friend. She suggested I hex/curse him/her and started prattling on about marriage plans again. As long as it’s not to anyone too closely related to me I don’t care; it would be mortifying to end up with a kid with webbed toes or something, like Crabbe does. Oops, that’s meant to be a secret. But there we are; Crabbe’s parents are first cousins and he has webbed toes. Wonder if Goyle knows?  
   Speaking of which, am fairy sure Crabbe and Goyle are third cousins. And they’re, y’know. They’re _them_. But if we’re going to go into it, I’m distantly related to Potter, so, y’know. Ah, purebloods. Incestuous bastards, the lot of us.  
   The Healer is ordering me to rest now. Think it is a good idea; thinking about my own personal genetics could possibly make my head explode.  
   Goddamn it, now I’m thinking about Potter and his pretty hair and hoping he’s having a good Christmas at Hogwarts with his friends and their ridiculous hair and my head is really aching and sigh I’m going to ask for a pain potion hang on.

**_3.12pm._ **

Pain potions make me a little funny in the head, it seems. I mean, I’m already a little funny in the head but pain potions make me extra funny. Extra weird. Oh, whatever.  
   Father came to visit me and check if I’m okay after nearly bleeding out. Well, his words were, “I assume you’ll do your best to pay attentions to your surroundings, Draco, it is not becoming for a Malfoy to be clumsy or ungainly and your…recent string of injuries are suggesting blah, blah, blah, blah, blah-blah, blah.”  
   Everyone talks way too much.  
   Father: “…and as your father…”  
   I feel compelled to point out here that I was pretty high on pain potion.  
   Me: “No, you’re Lady Galadriel. Not my father. _Lady Galadriel.”  
   _Father: “I assume, Draco, you’re delirious right now and have not been reading muggle rubbish such as the _Lord of the Rings_.”  
   My father assumes a LOT and also WHAT THE FUCK HE KNOWS LORD OF THE RINGS????!?  
   Do not know what to make of these developments. Must consult small furry mudblood friend. Will draft out a letter. Using _pronouns_ , because I am posh, damn it.

Rosie,  
Salutations. Merry Christmas, and all that. Question: if my father recognised a _Lord of the Rings_ quote, what could one deduce from it? Seriously, though, I almost got killed by a Christmas tree earlier today. And the house-elves are punishing themselves so loudly I can’t even _think_. It is frustrating me.  
   Have you heard from Harmony? Don’t laugh at me when I ask this, but has she mentioned Potter? Seriously, if you laugh at me I will hunt down and brutally murdered ‘Colin’, and make you watch. Be warned, small furry person.  
   - D.L Malfoy.

* * *

 

**_25 th December, 8.07am, my room. _ **

Was awoken at an ungodly hour my snowy white owl that Rosie has been using to communicate, pecking my toes and dropping a letter before flying off. Letter is as follows:

DRAAAAAACOOOOOO! I got up at one and opened your presents and the BRACELET, HOLY FUCKING GOD JESUS TAKE THE WHEEL. I will hug you when I next see you. I will _hug you_.  
   Also I laughed my arse off when you mentioned HERMIONE and HARRY and I will throw you off Astronomy Tower before you brutally murder Colin. (Why do you use ‘quotation marks’ when you ‘mention’ my… my _thing?_ Shut up, at least I had the balls to go get the boyI like instead of just pathetically pining after him. Loser.) Herms has written, and she has mentioned Hazza, but only briefly. All she ever talks about is Ron, Ron, Ron, Ron-fucking-Weasley. (I need a ghetto name for Ron. Any ideas?)  
   Maybe your dad has read LotR because he’s in it under the guise of the bootylicious elf-queen? Check him for pointy ears and breasts.  
   How did you almost get killed by a Christmas tree? Actually, I don’t think I want to know. Just try to stay alive until New Years, okay? You’ve been invited to the family New Year’s Do, by the way, and I think my mother is a little bit in love with you after the DIAMOND BRACELT (which I am not allowed to wear because she think’s I’ll lose it. Pfft. It’s not like I’m _reckless_ or anything.), so you might want to stay clear of an older version of Herms, should you ever run into it, lest she tries to adopt you. (LOOK, I CAN DO FANCY WORDS TOO. ‘LEST’). But the News Years thing, seriously, please don’t come. I can’t put it into words how wrong it would be.  
   GUESS WHAT I GOT THIS CHRISTMAS??? A training bra. A freaking TRAINING BRA! Mothers, honestly. Have you gotten your training bra yet? We could match. Kidding, you're still pancake-flat. Why am I talking about your boobs? I don't know.  
   Anyway, love, furry kisses and all that. I’ve got to go – Pavlova to eat. (Have you ever eaten Pavlova? It’s from Australia and it’s _divine_. Probably not the most sensible breakfast food, but I don’t really give a fuck.)  
   Rosaline R. Granger (I CAN BE FANCY TOOOOO).

As you can see, Rosie is more than slightly insane, and possibly illiterate. Nice teeth, though, I guess.  
   By ‘one’, Rosie means ‘one am’. She woke her parents up at one am for presents and desert food. Crazy little mudblood. Am hoping she doesn’t huge me. Really, really hoping. *Shudders*.  
   Am now going to go in search of own presents.

**_4.45pm._ **

Have received piles and piles of presents from parents, or rather from house-elves sent out to buy me things thirteen year old wizards are meant to desire. Have received a new top-of-the-line broomstick, servicing kit, Quidditch memorabilia, new robes, new shoes, new socks, a jade-and-emerald versus white-gold-and-diamond goblin-made wizard-chess set, and more, incredibly fancy things I don’t really care for.  
   Good haul, I guess. But I can’t stop thinking about what Rosie’s told me about the Granger Family Christmas – ginger bread in front of the fire, a dinner that’s always burnt because her parents are rubbish cooks, aunts and uncles stopping in with little gifts and cards and hugs, snow ball fights and ‘cheesy Christmas films’, whatever they are. It kind of sounds a lot more appealing than the cold, empty manor and the usual house-elf cooked dinner, made ‘festive’ by a few Christmas Crackers with truly horrible anti-muggle jokes inside.  
   Sigh. Will resign self to thinking about Potter’s stupid hair and truly dopey smile. Kind of can’t wait to get back to school.      
   ...what has HAPPENED TO ME???

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now time for some SHAMELESS SELF-PROMOTION – YAY! Go read my other works if you like Supernatural AU’s that usually involve lesbians and don’t make a lot of sense. Also, find me on Tumblr at amelia_is_ovulating@tumblr.com and I'll follow you back. I sometimes reblog fandom-y stuff and scream about fiction characters/middle-aged actors and actresses. Also, I rant about baking cakes in the middle of the night. How do you NOT want to follow me??


	7. "...I found it in a closet."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...I found it in a closet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM ALIVE. Are you shocked? Are you screaming? I’m alive! And also, sorry. I haven’t been updating or writing for the last few weeks or however long it’s been and I’m sorry. I was working through some person stuff, or at least trying to, and then the other night I just lost it – I put my fist through a glass window that we really couldn’t afford to replace, and when my big brother, who is a cowardly, selfish, malicious, abusive fuck of a person, came storming into my room to yell at me or bash my head in or something I just snapped and attacked him and I kicked him and punched him and frigging clawed him and I think I bit him once too and sorry for offloading all this on you poor innocent internet goers but all my irl friends stopped talking to me recently and I don’t have anyone to talk about it too or rant about it too and I just need to SAY IT so sorry people sorry.   
> OKAY GUYS IGNORE THAT RANT NOW PLEASE THANKYOU   
> Also thanks to Rosa and angelwithtwoshadows who gave me the incentive to make some time and finally WRITE this, and to everyone who is sticking with me and reading this – you’ll all wonderful people and will shortly be receiving large crates full of penguins in the mail as thanks for your ongoing support. (Just kidding. I’m keeping the penguins for myself and training them to do my bidding. MWAHAHAHA)  
> (Also sorry this probably isn't funny or clever or whatever I want it to be I'm way off my game sorry)

**_25 th December, 6.30pm, Dining Hall. _ **

I hate small children.  
   _Despise_ small children. I want to _destroy_ small children.  
   Am on the verge of tears.  
   They always haven to put me on the fucking children’s table at the big-extended-pureblood-family-dinner things. _Always_. Every single fucking time.  
    Goyle’s little brother is sticking caviar up his nose and then spitting them out his mouth.  
   And guess who is sitting next to me. GUESS.  
   Nott.  
   First became aware of his presence when felt a hand creeping up my leg. I screamed a very manly scream and did not face-plant into my soup, which was a very nice soup, made of…something…that we ate for appetizers.  
   They always put me at the fucking kid’s table.  
   Some snot-faced little brat with pigtails just announced cheerfully, “I just pooped in my pants!”  
   Shudder.  
   I miss Potter.

**_6.36pm,_ **

“I bet you I can pee on your plate from all the way over here!”  
   “No way, you’re all the way over on the other side of the table”  
   “Five galleons says I can!”  
   “You’re on! Pull up your robe and do it!”  
   I am in tears.

**_6.38pm,_ **

*screaming from all directions as Goyle’s little brother pisses all over everyone except for me as I duck under the table and hide, ingeniously*

**_6.41pm,_ **

Food has begun to fly. Grown wizards are crying over at the adult table. A little blonde witch a year or so younger than Rosie joins me under the table.  
   She says: “I’m scared.”  
   Me too, kid. Me too.  
   The Kid: “What are you writing?”  
   Me: “I’m planning how to murder (am rudely interrupted as something shrieks a bloodcurdling shriek above us) everyone at this table.”  
   She: “Can I help?”  
   I don’t see why not.

**_How To Kill Everyone, by Draco Malfoy and Emmalyn Lestrange._ **

Theodore Nott: Suffocate slowly with his own pillow (-D.M)

Victor Goyle: Drown in a tub of pee (-E.L)

Patrice Parkinson (age four): shoot out of a cannon into the sun (-E.L)

Pansy Parkinson: feed to a flying chicken (-D.M)

Gregory Goyle: Goyle can live, I guess (-D.M)

Vincent Crabbe: Crabbe can live too (-D.M)

Grace Lestrange: Avada her. (-E.L)

Small Brunette Boy Neither Of Us Actually Know: used as bait to catch a shark (-E.L)

(Feel like I am encouraging a small child to go and murder her cousins I should stop this but it’s too fun)

Medium-Sized Blonde Girl Neither Of Us Know: poison. Lots and lots of poison (-D.M)

(D.M cannot continue to write as he has been accidentally kicked in the head by Vincent Crabbe (see above) and knocked unconscious. He will be missed –E.L)

**_7:32pm,_ **

Came to alone under table. Everyone had gone and house-elves were cleaning things up. Guess Christmas was a ridiculous fail, then.  
   Lots and lots of extra house-elves from our visiting family members. Wonder if they’ll have a great big house-elf orgy once they’re done cleaning.  
   …I now have images in my head I never wanted to have in my head.  
   But at least Nott got peed on tonight.

**_27 th December, 9.41pm, My Wing. _ **

Have received correspondence from following people: Rosie Granger, Tracey Davis, and Pansy Parkinson.  
   Letters are as follows:

I’m sorry I will reply when I can stop laughing NOTT GOT PEED ON.    –Rosie

Hey – heard about the Christmas dinner disaster. Have a fun night? Also, Merry Christmas, and stuff. You don’t happen to know Zabini’s address, do you? I meant to ask him for it on the train home, but with the whole strawberry fight I kind of forgot.  
   Have you grown the balls to do something about Potter yet? Or did you get them for Christmas? Stop scowling at the parchment, I’m just teasing.  
   Love (not really), Tracey Davies.

Drakie,  
   I’ve been thinking a lot about us and I think we should get back together. We’re really suited to each other and our parents approve. I think I can forgive you for everything you’ve done to me – it won’t be easy, but I can try. _We_ can try.  
   I want you to know that I love you.  
   XXX Pansy

Can’t be dammed to reply to any of them. But am considered sending Pansy a brochure for St. Mungo’s – I think she’s finally lost it.  
   Sigh.

* * *

 

**_31 st December, 7.45am, my wing. _ **

Finally, the end of this horrific mess of a year.  
   (Am giggling to myself because NOTT GOT PEED ON)  
   Tonight, as you may remember, is the part of a certain family of angry grizzly bears and neurotic squirrels which I have been invited to. Am not going. Can’t be dammed. Also, am frightened.

**_7.48am,_ **

No, I’ve changed my mind. AM going to go to party.

**_7.51am,_ **

No I’m not.

**_7.53am,_ **

Yes I am.

**_7.56am,_ **

Think: What Would Potter (the love of my life) Do? WWPD?  
   He’d go to the party out of friendship and sit awkwardly in the corner being owlish all night that’s what and his hair would be all fluffy and his eyes would be shining and he’d eat a pasty and there’d be a bit stuck to the side of his mouth and he’d poke his tongue out and lick it off and MERLIN’S FUCKING BEARD I NEED HELP.

**_8.23am,_ **

Have composed some letters. They are as follows:

Small Furry Squirrel Person,  
   I need help. Perhaps you can give it to me tonight WHEN I SHOW UP TO YOUR PARTY.

Davies,  
   I need help. Address letters to Zabini to ‘Zabini Estate’. And then send me help.

Pansy,  
   Attached is a brochure for St. Mungo’s, the mental ward. Please utilize. In other news, I need help.

Couldn’t be dammed signing any of them, but they will know who they’re from. Maybe. They all know my owl, anyway, because it is finest, most majestic, fancy owl any of them have ever seen. Because I am POSH, dammit.  
   Kind of wanna take back the one to Rosie but it’s too late because I’ve already sent it, so, FUCK, but hey, it will at least give me incentive to stick to my word.  
   WWPD?  
   Potter would keep his promises, because he is an honourable, good-looking, clever -  
   I am going to go bash my head against a wall.

**_9.10am,_ **

Have dug out an old muggle style suit kept in the Manor for ‘such occasions’. Don’t really know what ‘such occasions’ are, but suspect they belonged to some Death Eater-ish person who would disguise themselves in the muggle world and go about murdering people.

**_9.13am,_ **

The tie just tried to strange me. Theory has been confirmed. In other news, don’t think I’ll be wearing a tie tonight.

**_6.45pm, Knight Bus._ **

Merlin’s bloody beard. I am surrounded by _filthy blooded fools._ Of course, I am surrounded by filthy blooded fools every day at Hogwarts, but that’s different. There are people I actually _like_ there. Here there are just…shady characters. Characters even shadier than a majority of my relatives. There are of course, classier modes of transportation, but all of those involve/rely on witches and wizards that would rat me out to my father for gold.  
   _Wenches_.  
   Kind of fear for my life in this bu

**_7.15pm,_ **

Last entry was just short due to the fact that the bus jack-knifed around a corner and I flew from my seat and _knocked myself out_.  
   Came to on floor of Knight Bus with pimply conductor leaning over me, announcing to the cheers of the rest of the bus that I was, in fact, alive.  
   Sigh.  
   Threaten him until he is almost crying. Threaten rest of bus until they are kind of laughing. Stomp back to seat. Sit quietly glaring at everyone.  
   Am going to stop writing now. Almost at destination.

**_7.20pm,_ **

Outside of Granger House. Starting to suspect this is a terrible, terrible, terrible idea.

**_7.22pm, walking down path the Granger House_. **

This is the worst idea I have ever had.  
   There are muggles here. MUGGLES. Evidentially the party has already begun and I am FREAKING THE FUCK OUT.  
   I will not run away. I will not run away. Potter would not run away. I am going to go and knock on that door where all the muggles are.  
   I am not going to pee my pants.  
   …ha, Nott got peed on.  
   Am knocking on door.  
   Waiting.  
   Waiting.  
   Door is answered by small furry mudblood.  
   Small furry mudblood: screams.  
   Me: “Hello.”  
   Small furry mudblood: “What the HELL are you doing here?”  
   Me: “You said I was invited.”  
   Small furry mudblood: “But I didn’t want you to COME!”  
   Mysterious Maternal Voice from inside: “Rosie, stop screaming at whoever at the door and invite them inside.”  
   Small furry mudblood: “But it’s DRACO!”  
   Mysterious Maternal Voice: “Stop screaming and invite him inside.”  
   Am assuming Mysterious Voice is, in fact, Mother Granger.  
   Small furry mudblood: “Come inside, you bastard, and stop scribbling in that dumb book about how much you love Potter.”  
   She's so rude.  
   Am going to do as she says.  
   Have come this far.  
   If I do not return, it was Rosie Granger who killed me.  
   And I do return, my father will be the one to kill me.  
   Hate my life.

**_7.29pm, the bedroom of a small furry mudblood._ **

Have been dragged into the bedroom of a small furry mudblood.  
   “I can’t believe you actually showed up, how did you get here…what the fuck are you wearing?”  
   “A suit?”  
   “From when, the dark ages?”  
   “…I found it in a closet.”  
   “ _Jesus fucking Christ_.”  
   “Who?”  
   “You look like a funeral. Stay here. I’m going to find some normal-person clothes for you.”  
   “Rosie, wait –“  
   Rosie has left me here alone. In her bedroom. Rosie’s room is v. small. At least compared to mine. And very pink. Uncharacteristically pink. Am resisting the urge to snoop around a bit.

**_7.31pm,_ **

Am snooping around a bit.

**_7.33pm,_ **

Think Rosie might be on drugs (would explain a lot). Have found small bottle of pills with confusing labels. What’s ‘ADHD’ and why does Rosie need to be treated for it?

7 ** _.34pm,_**

Rosie comes back holding a bundle of clothes just in time to see me holding her bottle of drugs.  
   Rosie: carefully closes the door.  
   Rosie: draws her wand.  
   Rosie: advances on me.  
   Rosie: “You never saw those. They don’t exist.”  
   Me: “I won’t tell anyone you take drugs. Please don’t hurt me.”  
   Rosie: is almost in tears.  
   Rosie: “They aren’t _drugs,_ you-inbred half-wit, they’re _meds_. I take _medication_ because I have a _condition._ Only, I don’t, because you _never saw those and they don’t exist.”_  
   Me: “Please put the wand down.”  
   Rosie: puts wand down. Throws clothes at me.  
   Rosie: “I got these off a cousin. I told them you spilt water all over yourself. Put them on. I’ll be in the kitchen.”  
   ???  
   She’s even more mental than I thought she was.

**_7.39pm, wearing the (muggle) clothes._ **

Feel dirty. This was a TERRIBLE idea.

**_7.40pm,_ **

How am I expected to find the kitchen?

**_7.42pm,_ **

Clue: the kitchen is the place where I can hear Rosie cackling in a rather terrifying way.

**_7:43pm, in the kitchen_ **

“AND HERE’S _DRACO!_ INTRODUCE US PROPERLY TO YOUR BOYFRIEND, ROSE-ROSE!”  
   Am scared – there are a lot of Granger-ish people in here, and by Granger-ish I unfortunately mean Rosie-ish rather than Harmony-ish.  
   “HE’S NOT MY BOYFRIEND YOU HALF-WIT HE’S GAY AND ALSO MY BOYFRIEND IS A TWERPY DUDE WITH A CAMERA NAMED COLIN!”  
   “Can everybody please stop screaming?”  
   “NO MUM.”  
   “NO AUNT HELEN.”  
   Merlin’s bloody beard.

**_7.46pm,_ **

Am being mobbed by a lot of Granger-ish people – think Rosie might have even more cousins that I do, which is saying something, considering that technically my parents are my cousins as well as my parents – should stop thinking about my genetics. My brain will implode.  
   Also, v. many family friends and almost as many colleagues, and several people I think might be strangers that just wandered in.  
   “ROSE-ROSE I BET YOU CAN’T SNORT LEMONADE OUT YOUR NOSE!”  
   I believe that’s the one whose clothes I am wearing.  
   “I CAN DO IT OUT OF BOTH NOSTRILS, DICK-BAG!”  
   Three guesses who that is.  
   “Can you both PLEASE stop screaming? You’re greying my hair, for Christ’s sake.”  
   “Oh, let them have their fun, Helen. They never see each other anymore, what with Rosie being a wi – a gifted child. Off at her gifted child school.”  
   “Shut up, Roger. Shut up, children.”  
   Mother Granger is simply precious.

**_7.50pm,_ **

“Hey, Blondie, you ever taken a shot?”  
   Mother and Father Granger have left the kitchen. The one whose clothes I’m wearing is quite possibly coming onto me.  
   “No?”  
   “Oh, you’re in for a treat, pretty boy. Rose-Rose! Where’s the alcohol?”  
   “You’re not allowed to get Draco drunk, Timmy.”  
   “One shot won’t get him drunk – will it, Barbie-boy?”  
   Could destroy him with a wave of my wand. Must keep this in mind  
   “Can you talk, gorgeous? What are you writing? Is that your diary?”  
   I. Could. Destroy. Him.  
   “Hey, Timmy, five quid says I could break your nose with one hit.”  
   “Oh, you’re on, Rose-Rose.”

**_7.53pm,_ **

Rosie has broken Timmy’s nose with one hit. Timmy has been taken away to some kind of hospital, presumably, since none of these muggles are capable of healing him. BECAUSE THEY DON'T HAVE MAGIC AND ARE IN FACT MUGGLES.  
   Someone has put on music.  
   “Come dance with me, Draco.”  
    “No.”  
   “Pleeeeeeee-“  
   “No, Rosie.”

**_7.55pm, dancing with Rosie._ **

Sigh.

**_8.04pm, hiding in kitchen._ **

Rosie has gone off with some Rosie-ish people (her own age) and I have been left alone.  
   And I am terrified.  
   I am in a MUGGLE house in a MUGGLE NEIGHBOURHOOD with MUGGLES. There is ELECTRICITY here and BATTERIES and there are no cauldrons in this kitchen and the only broomstick is for cleaning and – I think I am having a panic attack.  
   WWPD? **WWDP?  
   ** What would he do????

**_8.07pm,_ **

Oh thankyou Merlin I love you Merlin.  
   I just caught sight of Harmony.

**_8.09pm, hiding in the backyard with Harmony._ **

“…so I got special permission from Dumbledore to leave halfway through the holidays, and I know it’s unorthodox, but I just kind of wanted to be here, with my family, you know?”  
   Harmony’s hair is frightening. I mean, I’ve known for ages, but it seems even _more_ frightening somehow.  
   “…and Mum said she’d told Rosie to invite you, and I really wanted to thank you properly for your Christmas gifts, they were so thoughtful, and I feel terrible because I didn’t get you anything…are you even listening to me?”  
   “What? Yeah. Yes. Of course.”  
   Harmony quite a bit closer to me than she was a minute ago…

**_8.10pm, in serious shock._ **

What.  
   Why.  
   How.  
   WHAT.  
   Harmony just kissed me.  
   On the mouth.

**_8.11pm,_ **

“…it’s not like I have feeling for you or anything, I’m serious. I just – I keep trying to figure out a way to tell Ron how I feel about him, but because he’s, you know, kind of thick, I wanted a way that leaves no room for misunderstandings, so I figured, I’d kiss him, but every time I try I just _freeze,_ I just _can’t,_ so I thought just now, ‘Hey, if I can kiss Draco, I can kiss Ron’, right?”  
   Me: “Harmony?”  
   Harmony: “My name is _Hermio_ – look, never mind. Yes, Draco?”  
   Me: “I’m definitely gay.”  
   Harmony: “Oh, good. I mean, you don’t mind, that I…?”  
   Me: “I don’t think I do. All the same, I’m defiantly very gay.”  
   Harmony laughs very softly, and hugs me. The hug is only slightly less traumatising than the kiss was.  
   “DRACO! WHERE THE FUCKING HELL ARE YOU, YOU POSH BASTARD?”  
   Harmony: “I think my sister is looking for you.”  
   “DRAAAACO!”  
   Me: “I think she might be.”  
   Harmony: “So are we okay?”  
   “I’m not going to catch anything off you, am I?”  
   Harmony punched me not very lightly on the arm.  
   “We’re okay.”  
   “DRACO! YOU USELESS BASTARD! GET YOUR SKINNY WHITE ARSE IN HERE!”  
   “I’m going to go get my skinny white arse in there.”  
   “Okay. And thanks, for everything – the Christmas gifts, and the talk.”  
   “You’re welcome, I guess.”

**_I don’t know what the time is but the sun is just coming up so morning I guess. I also don’t know where I am but it’s soft here and also slightly wet but nothing is perfect I guess._ **

I don’t know what happened last night after I went inside to find Rosie. Several pages are missing from this journal. My head hurts. I’m in someone’s bed. Rosie is here too. The one called Timmy whose clothes I am wearing is passed out on the floor next to us.  
   I am going to go back to sleep I think, until my head stops throbbing.  
   Goodbye, possibly for ever.


	8. "You may have noticed I'm an arsehole."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You may have noticed I'm an arsehole."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all. Have I mentioned that I love you all? I LOVE YOU ALL. But not in a creepy way. Promise.   
> In other news, I am currently eating a lolly that I have no memory of buying nor putting in my mouth. I think there may be a Silence (Doctor Who fans will get it) in my house feeding me candy. Or maybe I’m losing my mind. 
> 
> Kaeyi: Did it hurt when you fell from heaven? Because I have deduced that you are an angel. If you were to give me your URL I would probably message you in the middle of the night with nonsense in capital letters, probably almost every night (that’s how I make friends with people – I scream nonsense at them. It doesn’t often work). I would annoy the shit out of you. But the favour would go both ways – you could vent/rant at me too, if you ever needed to. 
> 
> VulpineVandal: I really fucking love your screen name. I have no idea what it means but it is AWESOME. Your comment made me laugh – the bit at the end about Harry’s glasses is PERFECTION. And it made me smile, and think, and gave me a few idea for this chapter. I want to thank you for everything you told with me, because I’m literally a stranger on the internet and blergh I’m not that good at words when people are nice to me but thankyou anyway. Lots of love (not in a creepy way) and kisses (also not in a creepy way). 
> 
> MiyanaMistborn: your screen name makes me think you are possibly capable of probably very badass magic so I’m glad you like this, and I’m sorry you got told off at work for laughing. I’m not going to forget about this story, I promise. 
> 
> Elizabeth: am I soon enough? I’m glad you giggled. 
> 
> Angelwithtwoshadows: I’ll send you a penguin. Maybe. Sorry about the madness (I don’t get the reference? So no bonus points for me :( ). I will never, ever give this up. Pinky promise. Also, strange moods are good. I try to be in one 24/7. Thankyou for the comment, beautiful (insert non-creepy kisses here)
> 
> Cyclotmic: thanks! And I will. Promise.   
> Rosa: *high-pitched pterodactyl screaming* YOU ALWAYS SAY SUCH NICE THINGS TO ME HOW ARE YOU EVEN REAL???? (thankuthankuthanku). He is POSH, Dammit! (you said you hope I’m alright and you sent me x’s. do you have any idea how long it has been since anyone hoped I’m alright and sent me x’s? It’s been forever. You will shortly be receiving a fully operational robot programed to do your bidding in the post. You’re welcome.)
> 
> To everyone who has subscribed to this, has left kudos, commented and is just silently flowing this without doing any of the above: non-creepy kisses and hugs and all my love for your support/non-support. YOU’RE ALL WONDERFUL AND BEAUTIFUL AND I LOVE YOU ALL PENGUINS AND ROBOTS FOR EVERYONE. 
> 
> *Cecil Baldwin voice*: And now, I give you...the chapter.

**_1 st January, midday, That Mysterious Room. _ **

My head.  
   My poor, poor, head.  
   Am on the verge of tears.  
   Rosie is snoring lightly next to me and muttering in her sleep, “Nott got peeeeeeeeeeeed on.”  
   She’s a cute kid. Crazy and violent, but cute. Shut up, not in that way. The incident with Harmony last night proved to me that I am DEFINITELY gay. Congrats to me, I guess.  
   Am poking Rosie a little. Trying to wake her up. Whisper very softly, “Rosie.”  
   Rosie yells, still sleeping, “I LOVE YOU, COLIN!”  
   Sigh.

**_12.30-ish,_ **

Rosie has woken up. YES! Informed me that the room we’re in is the spare room of the Granger House.  
   The one whose close I’m wearing is still passed out of the floor.  
   Rosie has also informed me that we got drunk last night. Well, I did, and Timmy did. Rosie can’t drink alcohol. That’s what she told me. Am assuming it is because she is eleven (twelve? I don’t even know). Can’t think. Head is POUNDING.  
   Rosie informs me that last night I climbed up into a tree and yelled for all the world to hear, “I LOVE HARRY POTTER.”  
   Am beginning to accept I will never, ever, not ever have any secrets. Never.  
   Sigh.

**_Some time later._ **

Fuck. We go back to school tomorrow.   
   “Rosie?”  
   “Nggh?”  
   “We go back to school tomorrow.”  
   Rosie: “Fuck.”

**_1.23pm, Granger Kitchen._ **

“Oh, I always love our parties, but the clean-up is always dreadful.”  
   Mother Granger.  
   “Oh, Draco, dear, you’re awake. Feeling okay? After last night I thought you might be a bit wish-washy; that bloody Timmy. Every year I say to my sister, how about you and the family stay home? Have a quiet one? But Jules, she always says, ‘No, let the kids have some fun’. If fun is what she calls causing trouble, well, I try not to judge, but that Bill – she could have married a better man, my sister, and we never used to have that much to do with them, but, well, what happened before Rosie’s birthday – horrible business, has she told you about it? Oh, you phoned your parents, didn’t you, to tell them you were sleeping over? We can give you a drive home, if you need one, how did you get here again, love? Robert and I are working later this arvo, but any time before four-thirty, just give us a holler, it’s no trouble, really.”    Have no idea what Mother Granger is saying. Literally cannot process the words coming out of her mouth.  
   Head hurts.  
   Want to cry.

**_2.13pm, on the Knight Bus._ **

Have been fed, watered, and hugged my Mother Granger. Have had my hand shaken by Father Granger and invited back at any time.  
   I am going to go home and get into my bed and sleep for six hundred years.  
   Still don’t know what happened last night after I went to find Rosie. Don’t think I want to know.  
   Have a feeling naked dancing may have been involved.  
   Sigh.

**_2.26pm, Malfoy Manor._ **

Home.  
   Head is still aching.  
   Parents did notice I was gone last night.  
   Am going to get into bed and sleep for those six hundred years.  
   Going to dream about Potter.

**_2 nd January, 8.16am, in bed. _ **

No longer feel like a corpse.  
    Hallelujah, or whatever it is that muggles say.  
   House-elf is packing my trunk for school.  
   Weirdly excited to go back.

**_11.15am, on the Hogwarts Express._ **

Was grabbed and brutally dragged into compartment by small furry mudblood seconds after entering onto train. Small furry mudblood shut us into a compartment and said in one big exhale, “Okayishouldprobalytellyouaboutthosepillsthatdontexist.”  
   Me: ”What?”  
   Rosie (glaring at me: “These.”  
   Rosie: draws bottle of drugs out of her pocket.  
   (thank Merlin; I thought at first she was going for her wand.)  
   Rosie: “You may have noticed I’m an arsehole.”  
   Me: “I actually have, yes.”  
   Rosie: “These make me an arsehole.”  
   Me: “You take drugs to make you mean?”  
   Rosie: “What? No. The arseholeishness is just a side-effect. I have this thing.”  
   Me: “Thing?”   
   Rosie: “Thing. Embrace the thing, Draco.”  
   Me: “I have no idea what you are saying to me.”  
   Rosie: “Jesus Christ, you’re _frustrating,_ do you know that?”  
   Me: “…”  
   Rosie: “No, shut up. You know what ADHD is? No, of course you don’t. You’re an ignorant moron.”  
   Me: “Hey –“  
   Rosie: “Still shut up. It’s like – I have problems concentrating on stuff, and I’m always restless, and I can’t follow instructions, and I never listen to anyone who talks to me, and I’m always daydreaming and losing stuff and causing trouble. My parents noticed when I was about six, because Hermione was such an angel, I…wasn’t. They took me to counselling and therapy and stuff after I got diagnosed, but it didn’t work. _Nothing_ worked. So I got put on these meds, only they made me, you know, a jerk, and I also crazy. So they took me _off_ the meds and I was doing okay. I was doing good. And that’s when my magic started…I stated doing accidental magic, and mum and dad were thrilled, because Hermione had just gotten her letter and I was apparently magic too, and one day Timmy came over, and Mum and Dad were at work, and I showed him how I could make fire out of nothing, and then I got distracted and forgot about the magic and left it there, just growing and growing, and the next thing I know there’s this huge explosion ripping through the house and Timmy is screaming, and I’m on fire, all of me.”  
   Merlin’s fucking _beard_.  
   “We would have died, I think, if the Ministry of Magic hadn’t sent people after they registered the accidental magic, and they Apparated us straight to St. Mungo’s. We were there for almost a month, and they had to wipe Timmy’s memories, but they healed us,” Rosie laughs, bitterly. “Not even a scar. And they put me back on the meds because I’m dangerous when I’m – I’m _dangerous,_ Draco. Better a crazy bitch than a killer-in-the-making, right?”  
   “Fuck, Rosie.”  
   “I know.”  
   “But – you’re not a killer-in-the-making. It was an accident.”  
   “ _I almost killed us both_. I _would of_ if it weren’t for the healers at Mungo’s.”  
   “You couldn’t help it. What were you, eight?”  
   “I was a few days shy of eleven. It was a few months ago, Draco.”  
   I have no words.

**_11.23am,_ **

Rosie has left the compartment to go find Colin, her equally tiny mudblood boyfriend.  
   And I still have no words. Rosie left after swearing me to secrecy.  
   “I’m _serious,_ you can’t tell a _soul,_ Draco.”  
   “Merlin’s saggy arse, I _promise_.”  
   “Good. We didn’t just…we didn’t just _bond,_ did we?”  
   “Fuck, I hope not.”  
   “Ha. I’m gonna go find Colin now. Give Harry Potter a kiss for me.”  
   “I hate you.”  
   “I know.”  
   I can’t believe -   
   She’s always so smiley -  
   Fuck.

**_11.38am,_ **

Have been joined in compartment by Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini and Davies. Zabini and Davies are holding hands and smiling shyly at each other.  
   I am doing something I believe is called _reeling_.  
   “What’s wrong with Malfoy?”  
   Good question, Zabini.  
   “Maybe he’s having a seizure.”  
   You sound far too happy about that prospect, Davies.  
   Compartment door slides open. “Hey, guys –“  
   “Nott, we don’t want any of your _bullshit_ right now, or ever, really, so why don’t you go back and sulk in your piss-soaked corner before I shove your own wand so far up your arse you‘ll have sparks shotting out your mouth for months?”  
   Dead silence.  
   “I’ll take it you didn’t have a good holiday, then, Malfoy?”  
   Fuck off, Zabini.  
   “Fuck off, Zabini.”  
   Stomp off to reel in peace.

**_1.23pm,_ **

My brain has lost the ability to function.  
   Shall rectify this by stopping trying to make it to function.  
   WWPD?  
   Potter would handle the situation with grace and eloquence. Well, maybe not. But he’s know how to make his furry little friend feel better. Well, maybe he wouldn’t. But he’d know how to comfort her, or make her laugh, or something.  
   Fuck.

**_1.26pm,_ **

Can hear someone screaming down the other end of the train and Rosie cackling madly. Screamer may or may not be the small mudblood Colin.  
   She seems…alright.  
   More alright than I am right now.  
   Which seems, you know, not quite right.  
   But it’s good she’s alright, I guess.  
   Is she alright?”

**_10.48pm, Slytherin Boys Dorms._ **

Think Crabbe may have snuck into Goyle’s bed, and they are _cuddling._  
   Am definitely going to kill them both – how come Crabbe and Goyle, the great big idiots, can manage a relationship and I can’t manage one with Potter? What am I doing so wrong?  
   Fuck it all. Fuck it all up the arse with a pointy stick.  
   (heh, Nott got peed on)  
    Speaking of Nott, he’s not in his bed. Zabini is visibly relieved and is telling no-one in particular about Davies and the three letters they exchanged during the summer.  
   HOW CAN EVERYONE DO RELATIONSHIPS EXCEPT FOR ME???  
   Bugger everything.  
   And now I am thinking about Rosie again, and reeling.

* * *

 

**_3 rd January, 10.15am, Potions. _ **

Have really not missed Snape.  
   “…and I have…prepared…a…welcome back…surprise…for you all…a surprise…test…you have…fifteen…minutes…commence.”  
   Sigh.

**_10.22am,_ **

Have just realised I know next to nothing about potions. Whisper, “ _Psst, Davies? What’s number ten?”_  
   Snape: “Trying…to…cheat, Davies? Detention…with me…this…afternoon.”  
   Love being Snape’s favourite.  
   Even after the shampoo/Christmas incident.   
   Having money is fan-fucking-tastic.

**_8.46am, Slytherin Boys Dorms._ **

I am going to drown myself in a toilet.  
   Potter came up to me at dinner.  
   And he handed me this journal. And he said, “You left this in potions.”  
   And he walked away.  
   did  
   did he  
   did he read  
   DID HE FUCKING READ THIS??  
   Am hyperventilating.  
   IF HE READ THIS.  
   Am seriously going to go drown myself.

**_9.12pm,_ **

Am wailing.  
   Zabini: “Why is Malfoy waling?”  
   Goyle: “I think it has somethin’ to do with Harry Potter?”  
   Zabini: “Of course it does. Hey, you don't happen to know why Nott isn't around, do you?"  
    Goyle: “No.”  
   Zabini: "Let’s hope he’s fallen into a ditch and died slowly.”  
   Crabbe: “He got peed on the other night."  
   Am still wailing over here on my bed of pain and insecurity.  
   Sigh.  

**_9.32pm,_ **

Am being poked by something small and furry and probably emotionally damaged.  
   “What the hell is wrong with you now?”  
   Inform her of the reason for my utter desolation.  
   Rosie: “Oh my god.”  
   Rosie: cackling.  
   Me: “You do know that I wrote down what you told me yesterday, and Harry Potter may have read it?”  
   Rosie: “That’s okay. It’s not like they’ll ever find his body.”  
   Me: squints at her.  
   Me: “What are you like without the pills that make you an arsehole?”  
   Rosie: flips me off and storms out.  
   Peace at last.

**_9.45pm,_ **

*screaming into pillow*

**_10:27pm,_ **

Zabini: “Can someone please shut him up?”  
   Goyle: throws pillow at me.  
   Hate them all.  
   Am still wailing/screaming/hyperventilating and burying my face in pillow.  
   Feel a bit light-headed.

**_10.39pm, Hospital Wing._ **

May have sort of suffocated myself a little bit with my pillow. Accidentally.  
   Sigh.

* * *

 

**_4 th January, 7.13am, Hospital Wing, _ **

“So I heard you almost suffocated yourself.”  
   “Go away, Rosie.”  
   “Oh, come on, you great big girl, he probably didn’t read it. Potter’s one of those gentlemanly-hero types, isn’t he?”  
   Me: *wistful sigh*.  
   Rosie: “Why do I even bother?”  
   Rosie: “Draco?”  
   Rosie: “Get your face out the blankets and look at me.”  
   What?

**_7.16am,_ **

Rosie has done...something to her hair.  
   It is vibrantly purple and appears to be wriggling.  
   Rosie: “Cool, huh? Colin helped pick the colour.”  
   I can’t believe she’s even real.  
   “I can’t believe you’re even real.”  
   Rosie grins and says, “Sometimes I can’t, either."  
   Me: “Are you…okay?”  
   Rosie (still grinning): “Never.”   
   Me: “Seriously.”  
   Rosie: “I’m never that, either.”  
   Glare at her.  
   Rosie: goes cross-eyed and sticks her tongue out.  
   Me: glare some more.  
   Rosie (still cross-eyed): “Hey, Nott’s looking for you. He had a gang of hench-idiots with him and tried to threaten me into telling him where you are, but then I reminded him that he got peed on and tears filled his beady little eyes and he stomped off. Also, Hubert’s purple, too.”  
   Hubert? Who what in Merlin’s name -  
   Oh. Oh, yeah.  
   That big shaggy mutt.  
   It’s loitering at the door, and is, in fact, purple.  
   And…wriggling.  
   Sigh.

**_7.32am,_ **

Am being discharged.  
   Finally.  
   …bollocks. I have classes.

**_10.17am, Defence Against the Dark Arts._ **

Lupin looks like he’s about to fall over. Or maybe die. And there is a whooping great fresh scar across his face.  
   ~~Great shaggy mutt~~ _Hubert_ walked past the classroom door with Rosie just as we were coming into class; Lupin caught sight of wiggling purple tail and hind legs and almost brained himself on the chalk board.  
   I know how he feels; along with the bright-green feather boa and false eyelashes that dog is downright terrifying.  
   Can see why Mother and Father Granger never let Rosie have any pets.  
   Although Harmony did once mention something about goldfish that were sacrificed to the ghost of Charlies Dickens a while back.  
   …  
   _Sigh._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to note that I do not, nor does anyone I know, have ADHD or take medication for it. Everything I know I know from the internet, so it is possibly inaccurate. Except for the bit about the medication making her 'a crazy bitch' - I just made that up. Creative License, and all that.


	9. "...a sack full of false beards."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...a sack full of false beards."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um…does it make you guys feel better to know I actually have a valid excuse this time? I was feeling kind of shitty, so my mother took me to our doctor, and the doctor immediately called me an ambulance because I had a piercing that got infected and went a little septic, and on top of that I’ve had a virus-y type thing, so, yeah. I’ve been in hospital having needles stuck into me (and I didn’t even faint, go me!), and then on medication, and have basically just been lying in bed having chills and fever and chocking back medication while watching Game of Thrones all this time rather than writing. Sorry? But to be fair to me, it’s kind of hard to write when one has a temperature of 39.6 oC and is coughing so hard one can’t breathe. Also, the epic saga of my home life has escalated into threats of bashings from my brother which I returned by throwing a dining chair at him (I AM the Hulk. Just call me Bruce Banner, guys), which resulted in my mother going off at us and trying to ground us, which really doesn’t work because my brother is a disrespectful little shit who does what he likes, and I never go anywhere anyway, and so there have been more mother-versus-brother screaming matches which I get involved in because I am a little shit who can’t keep my mouth closed and urg I haven’t exactly been in the mood to write funny shenanigans. But I’m back now. Give me love? *morphs into Ed Sheeran and runs away strumming a guitar*  
> (All replies to comments are now in the actual comments, rather than taking up space up here because I have ranting to do. Go check the comments if you want your reply)

**_4th January, 2.22pm, Hogwarts Grounds, bunking of history of magic with Zabini._ **

“…and I just never knew, you know, that there were girls like Tracy – I always thought they were all crazy like Pansy or bitches like my mother. But Tracy’s – she’s _vivid,_ do you get what I mean? She’s argumentative and stubborn and grouchy, but when she drops the attitude, when she _smiles,_ man, the whole room stops to stare.”  
   Zabini is currently what one would call _love-sick_. Am seriously considering pushing him into the black lake.  
   “And she’s clever, too – sly as shit and cunning as hell, but so _clever_ – I could listen to her talk in class for hours, because she really knows and understands what she’s talking about, not just parroting a textbook or the teacher. She actually enjoys homework, you know? Not that she’d spread it around – I think she’s scared she’ll get teased. And it just makes me like her even more, because for all her big talk and swagger she’s really a real person, with real-person feelings and insecurities and quirks.”  
   Will someone please shut him up.  
   Please.  
   Someone.  
   Anyone.  
   “I want to do something for her, like a gesture, but not something cliché like flowers or writing her music. I want to do something new, something big and interesting and original.”  
   That’s it.

**_3.25pm, have just shoved Zabini in the black lake._ **

Ah.  
   Satisfaction.  
   Lovely satisfaction.

**_4.15pm, Slytherin Common Room,_ **

‘Colin’ is in here. He looks nothing short of terrified. Rosie is currently acting out something that may or may not be _The Hobbit,_ standing on one of the lounges. She is wearing a false beard – I believe she’s playing the part of ‘Thorin Oakenshield’ and ‘Colin’ is playing the part of ‘Bilbo Baggins’. They may or may not be gay lovers in Rosie’s…play.  
    She’s trying to rope people into playing the other dwarves, and yes, she does have a sack full of false beards.  
   “Draco! Get over here, we need a Bombur!”  
   No. No, I will not.

**_4.19pm, wearing a false beard._ **

I can’t believe this is my life.  
   “That beard really suits you, Malfoy,” Davis is jeering, but she can’t really talk because she is playing Gandalf and is donning a beard herself, and also a long stick Rosie found on the ground outside that’s meant to be her ‘staff’.  
   “Crabbe, Goyle, just the people I wanted to see! C’mere, we need some trolls – COLIN PUT YOUR FOOT-BEARDS BACK ON YOU’RE TEARING THIS PRODUCTION APART!”  
   Rosie scares me sometimes.  
   ‘Colin’ better not have his camera with him. If there are pictures of this I WILL drown him in the black lake.

**_4.23pm,_ **

A bunch of Seventh Years came in, saw us lot parading around in our false beards, and walked out again.  
   Once, I would have done the same thing.  
   Am blaming Potter for all of this.  
   Speaking of which, I’m not sure if I’ve finished my melt-down over the whole he-might-have-read-this-journal fiasco, so if at any point I collapse and start crying, that too is Potter’s fault.  
   _Sigh_.

**_8.46pm, Slytherin Boys Dorms_ **

Prefects have been here shouting at us. Apparently we are ‘disturbing the peace’ and ‘making people uncomfortable’, personally, I think Rosie makes people feel uncomfortable wherever she goes, what with all the shouting and the cackling and the cursing random people to have orange skin, but no-one ever asks me what I think so I’ve never gotten to mention this to her.  
   Anyway, we got kicked out of the common room, but, on reflection, I think we may have accidentally stuffed Colin under a couch and left him there – we had to hide him when the Prefects showed up because he’s a Gryffindor and would probably be eviscerated if he was found down here. Should probably go down there and see if he’s still breathing under the couch because _Rosie_ will eviscerate _me_ if I let her boyfriend die, which would be awkward, because how am I meant to get a date with Potter if all my internal organs are strewn around the place by a furry little mudblood?  
   Zabini: “Did you see Tracy with her false beard on?”  
   If false beards are what does it for Zabini, then sure, that’s fine, but if he keeps raving on about Davies _someone_ is going to get cursed.

**_8.52pm, thinking about suffocating Zabini with his own pillow._ **

Zabini is _gushing._ He is a pureblood, purebloods do not _gush_.  
   Hey, I know.  
   I’ll suffocate him with a false beard.

**_8.54pm,_ **

Think maybe Crabbe has snuck into Goyle’s bed and they are holding hands under the blanket and whispering endearments to each other. Can’t imagine what they could possibly find endearing about each other – “Oh, Goyle, you’re eyes are so pretty, exactly the colour of old moss.” “Oh, Crabbe, I love your hair, it’s just like lots of short pieces of straw sitting there on your head.”  
   Potter has nice eyes. And nice hair.  
   I hate my life.

**_8.56pm,_ **

Nott is still missing. Everyone (including me) seems to be relieved about this fact.  
   Wonder if Rosie chocked him with a false beard. Would not put it past her.  
   …think I think about all the ways to murder someone with a false beard a bit too much.

**_9.03pm,_ **

Just snuck down to the common room. Saw a grubby muggle running shoes – Rosie calls them ‘trainers’ – sticking out from one of the couches, twitching a bit. Unfortunately, some sixth years still down there, so I couldn’t rescue ‘Colin’.  
   Am going to get into bed and think about Potter for a while.

**_9.49pm,_ **

Lost track of time while daydreaming about Potter and forgot about ‘Colin’. Oops. Am going to sneak down and attempt a rescue mission now.

**_9.52pm, attempting rescue mission,_ **

Common room is empty. Grubby trainers are still sticking out from under couch. Am _amazed_ no one noticed them, but then again my House is full of idiots and half-wits and psychopaths, so maybe it’s not that surprising.  
   Gently kick one of the trainers. “’Colin’?”  
   “Mister Malfoy?”  
   Huh. He’s _respectful._ It’s about damn time someone is.  
   “You can, erm, get up now.”  
   “I can’t. I’m stuck.”  
   Of course he is.

**_9.54pm,_ **

“Wingardium Leviosa.”  
   Couch levitates. ‘Colin’ is revealed, looking…not good.  
   “Thanks, Mister Malfoy.”  
   “You look not good.”  
   “I feel not good.”  
   “You should go to the Hospital Wing.”  
   “I think I will.”  
   Awkward pause.  
   “’Colin’?”   
   “Yes, Mister Malfoy?”  
   “If you break Rosie’s heart I’ll hang you with a rope made out of false beards.”  
   “If I break Rosie’s heart, I think _she_ will hang me with a rope made out of false beards.”  
   Huh. Little twerp’s smarter than he looks.

**_9.59pm, Slytherin Boys Dorms._ **

Little twerp has pissed off to hospital wing. Am back in bed, totally not thinking about Potter. Really, I’m not – Crabbe is still in Goyle’s bed and I can hear whispers and quite kissing sounds. I can’t think of Potter when those two great oafs are MAKING OUT.  
    Sigh.

**_5 th January, 6.12am, Slytherin Boys Dorms. _ **

Woke up to find something small and furry and something not so small and furry in my bed with me. Guess what they were. Yes, you have guessed right. Rosie and that mangy mutt. Mangy mutt is wearing a false beard.  
   Rosie: “Thanks for saving Colin.”  
   Me: “I was scared you would eviscerate me if I let him die.”  
   Mangy mutt looks strangely like it’s trying not to laugh. Can dogs laugh? Dogs can't laugh.  
   Rosie: “I would probably eviscerate you if you let him die.”  
   Me: “Mmm.”  
   Rosie: “Draco?”  
   Me: “Mmm?”  
   Rosie: “Would you really hang a boy with a rope made out of false beards if he broke my heart?”  
   Me: “Probably.”  
   Rosie: “I could hang him myself, you know. But…thanks.”  
   Me: “You’re welcome. Now get the fuck out of my bed so I can go back to sleep. You and your big dumb dog.”  
   Rosie: “He’s not dumb, idiot.”  
   Me: “Whatever you say, you little nutter. Now fuck off.”  
   Rosie (laughing): kisses me on the cheek and goes.  
   Think this is what having a sister is like.  
   Am going back to sleep now.

**_8.26am, Great Hall, breakfast_ **

Am totally not staring at Potter from across the Hall. Nope. Not even glancing at him.  
   Urg.  
   Am staring at Potter from across the Hall.  
   Harmony keeps looking at me looking at Potter, and doesn’t seem to notice that Weasley is looking at her. Wonder if she’s gotten up the nerve to snog him yet? Probably hasn’t.  
   Potter really is very cute.

**_9.54am, Divination._ **

Am remembering why I always bunk off this class.  
   “Ah, dear boy, what do see in your crystal ball?”  
    “Your horrible and violent death, Professor.”  
   I have been spending too much time around Rosie. Also, now I have a detention.  
   Sigh.

**_11.15am, Great Hall, lunch._ **

Finally part of the day I find enjoyable.  
   Am actually not looking at Potter across the hall because Zabini informed me I look like a creepy stalker and looking like a creepy stalker is not a good thing to look like when perusing a possible romantic interest, and Merlin’s fucking beard, even though it was Zabini’s mouth moving I could have sworn it was Davies’ voice coming out.  
   Could be just hallucinating.  
   Am probably just hallucinating.  
   Sigh.

**_I don’t even know o’clock, bunking off something, somewhere_ **

Wandering in this castle is not a good idea. But am not lost. Not alone either –Hubert is with me, still in his false beard, drooling from the corner of his mouth onto it. That mutt really is disgusting. Also, it is scratching itself a lot. It better not have fucking fleas.  
   …  
   …  
   It definitely has fleas.  
   Gross.

**_Quarter past I don’t even know o’clock, lost._ **

…am lost.  
   _Bollocks.  
   _ I think the mutt is laughing at me.  
   “You can’t really laugh at anyone while you’re wearing a false beard, you know.”  
   Mutt is just laughing harder.  
   “Flea-bitten, mangy little _cat_.”  
   Mutt is no longer laughing. Mutt is growling and baring teeth at me.  
   …mutt has large teeth.  
   “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, don’t get your bloody knickers in a twist.”  
   Am talking to a dog.  
   Have lost my mind.  
   Don’t even care.

**_Several Hours Later._ **

Am hungry and also thirsty. Am still very lost. Am definitely missing dinner.  
   “Mutt, can’t you sniff us to the Great Hall or something?”  
   Mutt could definitely sniff us to the Great Hall. Mutt is just spiteful. Spiteful little...mutt.  
   Hey, hang on, where’s it going? It’s not leaving me.  
   ….  
   It’s leaving me. It’s running away.  
   Fuck.

**_Fifteen minutes later, out of breath._ **

Have been running after bloody mutt. Have lost bloody mutt. Am panting, have a cramp in my side, and a twisted ankle.  
   Am going to Avada that dog if it ever shows its smug little furry face again.  
   Hang on…  
   I think I know where I am. I can get back to the dungeons from here.  
   I am saved. Thank Merlin, I thought I would have to eat my own shoes if I kept on how I was.

**_7.35pm, Slytherin Common Room._ **

“Where the HELL have you BEEN all afternoon I’ve been looking for you!”  
   Rosie. Shouting at me as soon as I walk in the door.  
   “I’ll have you know, I got lost in this bloody castle. I had to eat my own shoes to survive to avoid starving to death.”  
   “…You’re wearing your shoes.”  
   “I ate them in a metaphorical way.”  
   “…”  
   “…”  
   “…you tosser.”  
   “Shut up.”   
   *mysterious loud rumbling sound*  
   “…was that you stomach?”  
   “Metaphors aren’t filling.”  
   “Oh my god. Come on, kitchens, we need to talk.”  
   “There are kitchens here?”  
   “Oh my _god_.”

**_7.42pm, kitchens._ **

There are kitchens here.  
   And house-elves. Lots and lots of house-elves. There are flashbacks in my brain about what I was accidentally thinking about at Christmas. I’m not going to write it down. I’m not. Really not.  
   ….  
   HOUSE-ELF ORGIES.  
Brain-bleach me now, please. Thankyou.  
   Rosie, reading over my shoulder: “I worry about you sometimes. Have you ever thought of talking to a therapist? ‘Cos I think you need a therapist sometimes. Well, I think it all the time. Um.”  
   Glaring at her.  
   “Never mind.”  
   Me: “You wanted to talk to me?”  
   Rosie: “I got a letter from my mother today.”  
   Me: “Congratulations, your mother knows how to write.”  
   Rosie (glaring at me): “She’s been talking to my doctor.”  
   Me: “I don’t know what that is, but continue.”  
   Rosie: “What kind of moron – oh. _Pureblood_. Um, my healer. They want to take me off the medication. Just to see how I'll go.”  
   Me: “….”  
   Rosie: “…”  
   Me: “…am I going to find out what you’re like when you’re not taking drugs to make you a crazy bitch?”  
   Rosie: throws goblet of pumpkin juice in my face. Whose idea was pumpkin juice, anyway? Sure, it fits the wizard _image,_ but it’s kind of disgusting. Oh, she’s still talking.  
   Rosie: “…so I just thought I’d warn you, because if we do take me off the medication I’m going to go back to being, you know, _me_ , and I could be dangerous, and I don’t want to blow you up or something so, yeah.”  
   Me (quietly): “Okay.”  
   Rosie: “Just ‘okay’? No sarcastic quips, no snotty remarks?”  
   Me: “…Rosie?”  
   Rosie (suspiciously): “What?”  
   Me: “I THINK POTTER READ MY DIARY!”  
   Rosie: “ _Jesus Christ on a popsicle stick.”_   
   Me: too busy howling to answer.  
   Rosie: “Sigh.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to go follow me on tumblr. My URL is amelia-is-ovulating, and there is now a picture of my face on my blog, because come on, I know you all secretly want to gaze upon my face.


	10. "...a small top-hat on my face."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...a small top-hat on my face."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um. I don’t actually have anything to say. Wow, that’s a first. No, wait, I do a bit. Haha tricked you.   
> Sorry it’s a short chapter. Also, might be the last one for a while – my family is moving house so I have packing and stuff to do. Okay, go read chapter now, nice peoples.

**_January 6 th, 3.12am, Slytherin Boys Dorms. _ **

Nott just got back from Whereverthehellhe'sbeen. He’s covered in some kind of slime and is giggling to himself between mutters of “Asparagus…so much asparagus.”  
   I’m _sure_ it’s just a coincidence, but Zabini snuck out just after Nott snuck _in._  
   Crabbe is snoring v. loudly.  
   Don’t think I’m getting back to sleep tonight.  
   Sigh.

**_9.32am, History of Magic._ **

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

**_9.44am, Hospital Wing._ **

Urg.   
   So apparently today I feel asleep in History of Magic, fell off my desk, landed on the floor, and knocked myself out.  
   At this rate I am going to be dead before I am fourteen.  
   …    My birthday is next month.  
   Am a dead man.  
   Can’t be bothered to care.  
   Sigh.

**_10.12am, Great Hall, Lunch._ **

Sitting at the Gryffindork table b/c I am apparently an embarrassment to Slytherin House because I injure myself so much and was kicked off my own table. Am being forced to sit next to that Irish one who always sets fire to everything and, yes, he does have his wand out and is practising some charm. Can’t help but notice that he’s burnt his eyebrows off quite recently.  
   Inch away from him.  
   Don’t want to be set on fire.  
   Am too pretty.  
   Speaking of pretty, Potter is sitting across from me, staring at me. Am trying not staring back, and accidentally staring at Harmony, who is next to Potter, erm, at her chest-area.  
   Found this out a few seconds ago when Weasley threw pudding at my head because he thought I was eyeing up his not-girlfriend.  
   I managed to successfully duck pudding, but Nott, who was walking past behind me, was not so lucky.  
   …  
   He got hit in the face with Weasley’s pudding.  
   Think the Weasel just made a new, powerful, really creepy enemy. Am giggling like a loon.  
   Rosie is giggling to herself too from where she is sitting on ‘Colin’s’ lap. She's so tiny she makes even 'Colin' look like a regular-sized person.  
   The Irish one just set himself on fire a little.  
   Am remembering why I hate people.  
   Potter is still staring at me.  
   Actually, everyone is staring at me.  
   ???  
   “Um, Draco?”  
   “Harmony?”  
   “You’re, um – you’re on fire.”  
   _Merlin’s bloody beard._

**_10.30am, Hospital Wing._ **

Madame P: “Twice in one day, Mr Malfoy! If I didn’t know better, I’d think you did it on purpose just so you could come and see me!”  
   Hate my life.

* * *

**_January 7 th, 1,12pm, Potions. _ **

Can feel Potter staring at me from across the room.  
   Staring.  
   Staring.  
   Staring.  
   Urg.  
   Have turned around to stare back at him.  
   Staring.  
   Staring.  
   Staring.  
   Harmony is gigging into her cauldron. Would glare at her, but am too busy staring.  
   Staring.  
   Staring.  
   “Mr Potter….Mr Malfoy….is…there…no…other…time….that…you…can… _make eyes_ at…each other…than…when…you’re in…my….class?”  
   Urg, Snape.  
   Harmony is now laughing into cauldron.  
   “Miss….Granger….are you so…advanced…at…potion…making….that you can…afford…to…waste…time…. _giggling?_ ”  
   Granger: “Yes, actually, sir.”  
   Have been a v. bad influence on her.  
   Snape: “Twenty…points…from…”  
   Someone with an Irish accent whose probably really good at setting things on fire just yelled out, “Your mum!”  
   Lots of dirty-blooded people are now laughing.  
   Don’t get the joke. Snape looks like he’s about to explode.  
   …  
   Potter is still staring at me.

**_3.44pm, Hogwarts Grounds, with Rosie and co._ **

It is v. cold, but a certain small furry mudblood is insisting that we make a snow fort. Since all the ‘snow’ is actually sludge, it is not going well.  
   On the bright side, McGonagonagonagonagall undid whatever Rosie did to her hair the other week, and it’s just an afro again. Huzzah– it was getting kind of hard to look at her with all that wiggly stuff on her head. Um.  
   Sludge fort just collapsed again, burying ‘Colin’ underneath it. Rosie started cackling immediately afterwards, and Harmony rushed to dig him out, and Davies and Zabini are just standing a little bit away from everyone and whispering to each other, and Potter is here and he’s staring at me.  
   Staring.  
   Staring.  
   Staring.  
   Am going to go insane if this keeps up.  
   Am going to walk up to him, in a slow, cool way that disguise the fact I am freaking out inside to see what’s wrong with him/wrong with me.    ….

**_3.50pm, Hospital Wing._ **

Fuck my life. Just _fuck it_. This is what happened when I tried to walk over to Potter:  
   Me: slips on sludge and banged head on ground, screaming like little girl on way down.  
   Harmony: runs over to see if I’m okay.  
   Harmony: “Are you okay? Do you need to go to the Hospital Wing?”  
   Me: “Urnf.”  
   Me: rolls over and tries to sit up.  
   Goyle: screams like a very large girl in a very large skirt.  
   Me: “?”  
   Rosie (cheerfully): “Yup, he needs the Hospital Wing.”  
   Me: “???”  
   Me: has cut my head open when I fell and am bleeding into sludge like a….reverse vampire-type creature. Reversepire?  
   Have lost a lot of blood. Feel v. dizzy.  
   Did not get to talk to Potter.  
   Hate my life.  
   Madame P: “It’s alright, dear, you’ll get a chance to talk to your young man soon. Just _try_ not to injure yourself, _please_.”  
   Have apparently been babbling out loud.  
   Urg.  
   Am going to close my eyes and have a sleep.

**_5.32pm, Hospital Wing._ **

Have just woken up from a nightmare about reversepires (vampire things that instead of drinking blood, bleed constantly from every orifice I DON’T WANT TO LIVE IN MY OWN BRAIN ANYMORE) to find a mysterious Dark Shape of Doom standing over me.  
   Dark Shape of Doom: turns out to be Nott, stroking my hair.  
   Nott/Dark Shape of Doom: “You’re pretty when you sleep, you know.”  
   Me: screams.  
   Me: wakes up for real to find Rosie sleeping in chair beside hospital bed. Get out of bed to find mirror. Carefully check own face for crude drawings.  
    …  
   There is a top-hat drawn on my forehead and the words ‘posh bastard’ in bigletters.  
   V. mature, Rosie. V. mature.  
   Rosie: “Oh, hey, you’re a dick. I mean, oh, hey, you’re awake.”  
   Glare suspiciously at her. Wordlessly point to small top hat on forehead.  
   Rosie: “Hey, you should be thanking me. I almost drew a phallus.”  
   Don’t know what that is. Don’t _want_ to know.  
   Rosie: “Harry was here while you were asleep.”  
   Me: “Harry…Potter?”  
   Rosie: “No, Harry Houdini.” Beat. “ _Yes,_ Potter was here, you moron.”  
   Me: “What did he say?”  
   Rosie: “He asked if you were okay and stared at the top-hat on your forehead and said he’d come back later. Also, you were drooling a bit and he looked really disgusted.”  
   …   
   Really hate my life.  
   Hate my small furry friend.  
   Rosie (cheerfully): “I know.”  
   Am apparently still talking out loud.  
   Am considering suffocating self in pillow.  
   Rosie: “Don’t do that; if you die I’ll lose the bet.”  
   …bet?

**_5.36pm,_ **

My so-called friends are betting on when/if Potter and I will ever get together.  
   Hate everyone in the entire world.  
   Rosie: “No, but really, Ron has it down that you’ll accidentally kill yourself before you can ‘corrupt Harry’ – you’re right, you know, he’s kind of dick, _very_ judgemental, apparently doesn’t believe in second chances – so you _can’t_ die, otherwise he’ll get like, twenty galleons, and I’ll get no galleons, and I like galleons, they’re really shiny –“  
   “Rosie?”  
   “Hmmmyeah?”  
   “What are you betting?”  
   Rosie: grins wickedly.  
   Rosie: “You’ll find out when I win.”  
   What?  
   “Well, I’m off to dinner now. See you, Draco.”  
   Really do hate her.  
   …  
   Dinner doesn’t even start for an hour.

**_5.41pm,_ **

Potter said he’d come back ‘later’. When’s ‘later’?  
   …bollocks.  
   I still have a small top-hat on my face.  
   Will attempt a cleaning charm.

**_5.46pm,_ **

Oh, fuck.  
   Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.  
   Cleaning charm has gone horribly wrong.  
   Small top-hat is gone.  
   So is my forehead and quite a bit of my hair.  
   Hate my life. Hate magic.  
   Maybe Madame P can fix me?  
   “Mr Malfoy, you have a visitor.”  
   It’s Potter. I know it’s Potter.  
   “Are you okay in there, Mr Malfoy?”  
   “Erm, yes?”  
   Me: dives into bed and shoves face into pillow and pulls blanket over face as Madame P and visitor come in.  
     _Really_ hope it’s not Potter.  
   Madame P: “I’ll just leave you boys to it, shall I? Shout if you need anything.”  
   It’s Potter. Who else would it be?  
   “Um, hi.”  
   …that’s Potter’s voice. FUCK.   
   I’m doomed.  
   Potter: “Are you…alright?”  
   No.  
   “Yes. Yes, I’m fine.”  
   Potter: “That’s god. _Good,_ that’s good.”  
   Potter is almost a big of a nutter as I am. That’s _god_ to know. Haha I’m so funny, not.  
   Awkward silence.  
   Potter: “So, you’re feeling better?”  
   I’m feeling like I should suffocate myself.  
   “Yeah.”  
   “Um, why are you…hiding under the blanket?”  
   Don’t tell him why don’t tell him why.  
   “I accidentally took half my face off with a cleaning charm a few minutes ago and I don’t want you to see me without my forehead.”  
   BAD MOUTH. BAD, BAD MOUTH.  
   Potter: “Um, that’s…that’s…I really don’t know what to say. To that. What to say in reply to what you said.”  
   “Okay.”  
   Potter: “Alright. Um.”  
   Annnnnd we’re back to the awkward silence.  
   Potter: “So I just came to see how you are, and erm, I’ll go now. Bye.”  
   “Bye.”  
   Potter: starts backing out of the room trips over something, head-butts the floor, says "Ow!",scrambles to his feet, and literally runs away.  
   Madame P (wistfully from just outside my curtained-off bed-area): “Ah, young love. Now, what were you saying about a missing forehead?”  
   I hate everything.


	11. "..it's for LOVE."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...it's for LOVE."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> didja miss me???

**_January 7 th, 12.13am, Slytherin Boys Dorms. _ **

Have finally been released from Hospital wing after long and painful forehead-regrowing session.

   …  
   Can’t believe this is my life.  
   On way back from hospital wing came across Rosie and some Hufflepuff I don’t know whispering in a side corridor, but Rosie abandoned her for five minutes to say hi to me, get the Potter/forehead story out of me, laugh like a loon, pat my arm in a semi-reassuring way and say, “You guys are so cute I want to vomit – actually, I think that might be the chocolate cupcake iced with mayonnaise I just ate,” and then wander off.  
   Can’t even believe she exists.  
   Finally got back to the common room to find Nott glaring at my bed with his wand in hand, looking v. homicidal, Zabini mysteriously missing, and Crabbe and Goyle actually in separate beds, for once. Maybe they’ve broken up? Thank Merlin; of all the ‘obnoxious couples who shove their love in your face’ I never would have thought it would be those two oafs.  
   Have just realised something.  
   Potter came to see me in the Hospital Wing.  
   He came to see me. Me. POTTER CAME TO FUCKING SEE ME IN THE HOSPITAL WING.  
   Does he  
   does he  
   fuck fuck fuck.  
   Need to talk to Harmony.

**_12.21am, Gryffindor Tower, outside the Fat Lady._ **

Have been standing out here begging/pleading/threating/bribing the Fat Lady to let me in. Fat Lady will not. Fat Lady is v. v. frustrating. Also, a terrible singer.  
   Me: “Please. It’s for LOVE.”  
   Fat Lady: “If she really loved you she’d have told you the password.  
”    “Well, fuck you too.”

**_12.23am, being told off by a painting._ **

Sigh.

**_12.29am,_ **

Fat Lady’s shouting has finally attention from Gryffindorks – Head Boy came storming down in his stupid hat with his stupid badge and his stupid face. Who the hell let a Weasley be Head Boy, anyway?  
   Huge-Head Boy shouted at me for a while and shouted at Fat Lady and deducted points from Slytherin (like I care) and told me to go back to bet, and while was saying all this I walked past him into Gryffindor common room and found Harmony sitting in a chair reading the hugest book I’ve ever seen.  
   Nerd.  
Sit down next to her, v. close. Knee-to-knee.  
   “Harmony.”  
   “Malfoy.”  
   “Harmony.”  
   “Malfoy.”  
   “ _Harmony.”_   
   “Malfoy.”  
   Merlin’s bloody beard. She is v. annoying.  
   “Potter came to see me in the Hospital Wing.”  
   “I know. He told me. Did you really blast your forehead off with a cleaning charm?”  
   “…maybe.”  
   Harmony: is trying not to laugh. _Damn_ her.  
   “Damn you, Harmony.”  
   “I’m sorry, you just…you…”  
   Harmony: giggles like a loon to the extent she loses the ability to speak.  
   Hate her.  
   Head Boy has now stormed into common room and is shouting at me.  
   Ignore him.  
   Harmony ignores him. Keeps giggling.  
   Rude.  
   I must be rubbing off on her.  
   …  
   That…that came out wrong.  
   (I HAVE A MENTAL IMAGE OF DOING THE OTHER KIND OF RUBBING OFF ON HER AND URG I THINK I’M GOING TO VOMIT.)  
   … This is even worse than the house-elf orgy fiasco.  
   DAMMIT NOW I’M THINKING ABOUT BOTH AT ONCE. WHAT’S NEXT, REVERSEPIRES???  
   …  
   REVERSEPIRES. _REVERSEPIRES.  
_    DAMMIT.

**_12.39am, recovering from a small mental breakdown._ **

Okay, I’m alright now.  
   I think.  
   Brains are scary. Living in brains is scarier.  
   Harmony is still giggling.  
   Damn her. Just _damn her.  
_    Am going to find…am going to go find someone else to get advice off.

**_1.45am, Slytherin Common Room, with Davies._ **

I will live to regret this, but…”Davies, I need some advice.”

**_2.04am,_ **

Davies says I should talk to Potter about how I feel and how he might feel and get it all out in the open. Problem: every time I go near Potter someone (usually me) ends up getting badly injured.  
   Davies also says I should fuck off so she can get some bloody sleep, so I shall fuck off so she can get some bloody sleep, and get some bloody sleep myself, and I keep almost writing ‘bloody sheep’ and am thinking about sheep reversepires and I am going to have nightmares to tonight.  
   But tomorrow I am going to talk to Potter, or die trying*  
    *Am actually highly likely to do this.

* * *

 

 

**_Ja_ ** **_nuary 8, 8.34am, standing outside the door to the Great Hall, dithering._ **

Am dithering.  
   Dithering.  
   Dithering.  
   Dithering.  
   Potter will be in there. Having breakfast with his stupid hair and his stupid face and his stupid hair and his stupid skinny wrists and stupid skinny fingers.  
   Stupid Potter.  
   I think I might love him.  
   …  
   _Dammit.  
   _ Am going to do it. Am going to go in here and talk to him.  
   …  
   Am having a hard time moving.  
   …  
   Fuck.  
   “Are you okay, Dr – Malfoy?”  
   Scream a very manly scream.  
   “DAMMIT DON’T SNEAK UP ON ME I THOUGHT YOU WERE A REVERSEPIRE – Potter?”  
   “Um, hi. What’s a reversepire?”  
   “Nightmares. Pure, unfiltered, _nightmares_.”  
   “Okay.”  
   Stare at him. He stares at me.  
   …  
   At least no-one is bleeding.  
   “Why are you standing out here?”  
   “I’m dithering like the dither queen of Dither Mountain.”  
   “Why?”  
   Don’t tell him, Draco. Don’t tell him. Just don’t.  
   “I’m suffering from romantic feelings.”  
   “I’m sorry,” Potter says, winces like he can understand just how bad romantic feelings feel. “Er, who?”   
   “Who, who?”  
   DAMMIT THIS ISN’T THE TIME FOR AN OWL IMPRESSION. MOUTH, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? MOUTH, STOP.  
   “Who are you having romantic feelings for?”  
    Don’t do it mouth. Don’t tell him mouth please.  
   “Er, McGonagall?”  
   NO, MOUTH THAT’S WORSE. THAT’S THE WORST THING YOU COULD HAVE SAID. MOUTH, I HATE YOU.  
   Potter is just staring at me.  
   Am legitimately going to through myself off the astronomy tower.  
   “Er, okay. I’m going to go breakfast now. Sorry about your romantic feelings for, um, McGonagall.”  
   And he practically runs away.  
   DAMMIT DAMMIT DAMMIT.  
    …  
   Think I am going to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny tidbit of a chapter, I know, sorry.  
>  In other news, it was my birthday the on Monday (a decade and a half old, yay!) and I was wondering if anyone wants to give me the best birthday gift of all time and be my beta in a Big Bang I'm participating in? I will love you forever if you do, and may even perform a ritualistic sacrifice in your honour.


	12. "...go and goo somewhere discreet."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...go and goo somewhere discreet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um. I may have sort of forgotten about this a little. Shut up, I’ve been busy. AND THEN THE LOVELY ALWAYS_DRARRY LEFT A COMMENT AND I REMEMBERED! Thank you, always_drarry. You just single-handedly saved this story from abandonment. Go have yourself some cookies. 
> 
> And now, drumroll please...THE CHAPTER!

**_January 8 th, 9.15am, hiding in my dorm. _ **

Am never leaving here. Never, ever, ever. Am going to stay here and wallow in my tears and misery and just die.  
   …  
  Can’t even believe I said  
   I said  
   I FUCKING SAID I HAD ROMANTIC FEELINGS FOR MCGONADRAGON. I SAID SO TO _POTTER._ PRETTY, CLEVER, BIG-DAMN-HERO _POTTER._  
   Am actually going to die from embarrassment.  
   But first I shall never leave this bed.  
   Never, ever, ever.

**_9.31am, have left bed._ **

On way to kitchens to procure some chocotatey snacks, because as Rosie and Harmony are fond of saying, chocolate fixes everything. Once I have procured chocolatey snacks I will return to bed and never leave.  
   At least everyone is in class and no-one is around to witness my… well, witness _me_ in general. Have a feeling I might melt into a pile of goo if anyone so much as looks at me.    …  
   Actually, that could work in my favour. If I was a pile of goo I would never have to face Potter, and…I’d never have to face Potter. I could just go and goo somewhere discreet, and no one would ever have to remember I existed or any of the bullshit that came out of my mouth without my permission.  
   But goo doesn’t have eyes and I’d never get to look at Potter again.  
   …  
   Need some advice. Will ask house-elves.

**_9.38am, kitchens._ **

House-elves give terrible advice. Keep telling me I should ‘follow my heart’ and ‘embrace true love’ and ‘do you want more chocolate sauce on that, sir?’  
   I want all the chocolate sauce in the world. And then I want to find a nice cave and crawl into it with my chocolate sauce and stay there being a chocolate sauce hermit until I grow a grey beard and eyebrows like Harmony’s and then I will find a nice corner to lie down and die in.  
   …but according to elves, I should ‘don my cloak of confidence and seek out my Prince Charming, and win him over.’ Win him over with what, my cave full of chocolate sauce?      
…  
   That could actually work, depending on how much Potter likes chocolate sauce.  
   Wait. Don’t actually have a cave full of chocolate sauce.  
   Yet.  
   …  
   And now I am being kicked out of kitchen because house-elves have lunch to prepare.  
   Random Elf: “Remember to follow your heart, sir! You won’t regret it!”  
   I might do, since my heart seems intent on leading me to an early grave.    …

**_9.46am, my dorm again._ **

Am lying in a bed full of chocolatey snacks. Nothing has ever been so wonderful, except maybe those few times I didn’t make a fool of myself in front of Potter. Have I ever not made a fool of myself in front of Potter?  
   Oh, Merlin.  
   I’d forgotten about what I said to Potter this morning by now I’m remembering and WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME? Well, my mouth. What is wrong with my mouth?    Becoming a pile of goo seems more appealing by the minute.  
   Hate my life.

**_11.34am, my dorm._ **

Lunch hour. People returning to dorm. Goyle and Crabbe (who are back together, ew), and Zabini. Zabini is trying to talk to me through bed curtains.  
   “Malfoy, are you alright? You weren’t in class, and, um, Harry Potter said you were acting weird this morning? Why are you making that noise? Are in in pain, or is that a pterodactyl impression?”  
   Me: “Sreeeeeeeaaaaawwwwwwcchhhhhhhhaaeeeeeeeeescreeeeeee.”  
   Zabini: “Um, okay. I’ll just go away then?”  
   Me: “SCREEEEEAWWWWWWWCHEEEEEEEEEE.”

**_11.39am,_ **

Am once again alone in my bed of pain.  
   “DRAAACCCOOO. Zabini said you’re being weird, what have you done now?”  
   ….Rosie has entered my dorm. Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck. Can seriously not deal with her right now – ouch.  
   She brought the mutt with her, and it’s jumping all over me, licking my face and _ew,_ it has really foul breath.  
   Me: “SCREEEEEAWWWWWWWEEEEECHIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE.”  
   Rosie: “Weird screaming isn’t going to deter me, I’m the queen of weird screaming. Wanna hear? ARRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.”  
   Me: “SCREEEEEEEEEEECHHHHHHHHHHHHIIIIIIIIEEEEAAAAA.”  
   Rosie:“ARRRRRRRRRRRKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOEEEEEEEEEEEE.”

**_11.45am, have lost my voice._ **

Screaming contest is over. Rosie won, and has now crawled into bed of pain next to me, helped herself to a chocolaty snack, and is waiting for me to talk.  
   CAN’T TALK, VOICE GONE.  
   (That was for her, obviously.)  
   Rosie: “Oh. Sorry? But what’s wrong with you? Come on, tell me, I’ll only tease you a little.”  
   Flip back pages to show her what happened this morning. Rosie looks torn between crying and laughing. Settles for laughing.  
   …  
   Hope she turns into a puddle of goo.  
   “You know this isn’t the end of the world, right?”  
   IT’S THE END OF MY WORLD.  
   “Oh, come off it. It’s a little embarrassing, sure, but nothing to lose your shit over. Just go up to him and explain it.”  
   Glare at her.  
   “Oh, you dramatic asshat, it’s not like you’ll _die_ if you just go up to talk to him _calmly_ and _reasonably._ ”  
   I MIGHT DO. HOLD ON, YOU’RE ACTING ALMOST LIKE AN ORDINARY PERSON. WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?  
   “I have to deal with having _you_ as a best friend, that’s what’s wrong with me.”  
   _NOW_ WE’RE BEST FRIENDS?  
   “Shut up. And talk to Potter, for fuck’s sake. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go teach Colin the correct way to explode watermelons.”  
    …there’s the crazy little mudblood I know and ~~love~~ ~~like~~ ~~fear~~ don’t dislike.  
   Fuck, I really have to talk to Potter, don’t I?  
   Am going to start researching spells that can turn a boy into goo right away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's short, but that's Draco's fault for not behaving - I've been trying to get him to snog Harry for like three chapters now, but he insists on dithering and hurting himself in weird ways. So blame Draco, not me. 
> 
> (Also, those two who offered to beta for me that chapter? I'm pulling out of that Big Bang because I don't have the time or the patience to do the writing, so I won't need you. BUT I STILL LOVE YOU FOREVER FOR OFFERING AND HAVE SENT YOU EACH A DRACOBOT (TM) IN THE MAIL FOR YOUR KINDNESS.)


	13. "...killed him with my awkwardness."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i have finally written a chapter where something happens.

**_January 9 th, 8.15 am, Slytherin Boys Dorms. _ **

Have my voice back. Almost wishing that I don’t because if I couldn’t talk I couldn’t talk to Potter ( _duh_ , obviously – wait, when did the voice in my head start talking like Tracey Davies? Um.)  
   What was I saying? Oh, yes, _Potter.  
   _ Am going to do it today. Am going to talk to him, and probably die trying, but am going to do it anyway and an _going to fucking do it anyway merlin’s fucking beard I’m scared._  
   Ahem. Anyway. Am going to do it today. Really am.

**_8.30 am,_ **

Nevermind, I’m hiding in my dorm.

**_8.36 am,_ **

No, I’m going down there to breakfast to see him.

**_8.52 am,_ **

He’s not here. I am here, but Potter is not. Rosie is standing on table juggling eggs, Davies and Zabini are holding hands and eating off each other’s plates, and Harmony is trying not to look at Weasley while he tries not to look at her, _but Potter isn’t here.  
_    On the bright side, no one appears to be pointing at me and laughing any more than usual, so maybe he didn’t tell anyone what I accidentally said about the McGonadragon?    Of course he didn’t, he’s _Potter,_ he’s lovely to everyone, even maniacs like me. Sigh. No, scratch that. D _reamy_ sigh.  
   I need help.

**_9.10am, potions._ **

“Do you, um, know where Potter is?”  
   Harmony: “I don’t think he was feeling too well this morning.”  
   Weasley: “Why do you care? Why are you so obsessed with him?”  
   Me: “I’m _gay_ for him, Weasel.”  
   Dead silence. Weasley is turning alarming shade of red.  
   Harmony: “Did you honestly not notice, Ronald? Honestly, I thought the whole school knew by now.”  
   Snape: “Do…you…three…have….something….to….share….with…the…class?”  
   Harmony: “No….sir…we….don’t.”  
   Have really been a terrible influence on her.  
   “Ten…points…from…Gryffindor.”  
   “O……..k.”  
   Giggling into cauldron. Nerves about Potter almost gone away…no, wait, they’re back. False alarm.

**_11.14am, Great Hall, Lunch._ **

Still no sign of Potter. Oh, fuck, what if I somehow killed him with my awkwardness?  
   ….i have realised that is not possible.

**_1.15pm, transfiguration._ **

Urg, school.  
   …    Zabini just managed to accidentally transfigure a cat into a violin and the sound it is making is universally considered to be called _screaming._

**_3.43pm, Hogwarts grounds_ **

Wandering.  
   Just. Wandering. Roaming. Like a bard of old. Might start writing tragically bad and badly tragic songs and playing a lute with tears in my eyes because no one has seen Potter all day and he’s obviously hiding from me.  
   Must learn how to play lute. Maybe enlist Rosie to be backup singer?  
   …  
   What has even happened to my brain?

**_3.50pm,_ **

Was standing on shore of lake being all deep and majestic when someone behind me said “He’s in the common room,” so naturally I flipped out a little and almost fell into the lake before I realised it was just Rosie and she has presumably been stalking me for quite a while.  
   Am not even weirded out by her anymore.  
   Me: “Who is?”  
   “Who do you think, dumbass? _Potter._ He’s in the Gryffindor common room being all Potter-ish.”  
   “You mean dashing handsome and heartbreaking heroic?”  
   “Sure, that. Password’s _felix_.”  
   “Rosaline, I love you.”  
   “Great. Off with you now, Romeo.”  
   “Who’s Romo?”  
   “Just go.”  
   Am going to go, and put this fucking book away for once so I can concentrate on what I’m doing instead on concentrating on writing down what I’m doing.

**_7.18pm, Slytherin Boys Dorms._ **

I honestly can’t breathe right now. I just -  
   Okay, I’ll start from the beginning.  
   I ran all the way to the Gryffindor common room and the fat woman on the portrait that is the door let me in with hardly a fuss and then I saw Potter and I went over to him and I was all awkward and flustered and weird but he didn’t even care and then we went up to his empty dorm for some privacy and talked some more but I can’t remember what about because when I was halfway through stuttering through some sentence he leaned in and FUCKING KISSED ME RIGHT ON THE FUCKING MOUTH AND SAID “I was waiting for you to do that but I’m getting tired of waiting so I hope you don’t mind if I take things into my own hands,” and then he kissed me again and it wasn’t even a proper snog but it was lips-on-lips and I almost fainted from how it felt and _I can’t even function properly right now.  
   _mmmf  
   we’re going to Hogsmeade together next weekend. Like, as a date-ish thing. Me and potter. Together. And I’m kind of freaking out but not too badly. Might have to practise being a normal person though. Not very good at that.  
   _He fucking kissed me twice on the mouth right on the mouth RIGHT ON THE MOUTH.  
   _ Am going to go tell Rosie about this because I can’t not.  
   _RIGHT ON THE FUCKING MOUTH._

**_10.34pm,_ **

Have been kicked out of Rosie’s dorm by three small girls who want to ‘study and sleep’ which I think actually means ‘summon some demons’ knowing the three small girls who said it but I don’t care because I talked to Potter today and I didn’t freak out too badly or injure myself and oh did I mention HE KISSED ME TWICE?  
   I am so happy right now I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before.  
   Am going to go lie in bed and think about Potter till I fall asleep.

**_January 10, 7.15am, in bed._ **

Dreamt about Potter last night. Was a good dream. Am going to go down to breakfast early because maybe he’ll be there.

**_7.21am, wishing I had not come down to breakfast early._ **

Just received this in the mail.

_Draco,_

_Your mother and I have been receiving letters from Theodore Nott, concerning the blood status of the students you have been…befriending. We have decided it is best if we pull you out of Hogwarts, and have secured a place for you a Durmstrang. You start there next week, please pack up all your things and say your farewells. We well be arriving in four days to collect you._

_Sincerely,_

_your Father._

Nonononononononononononono.  
   nonononononononononononononononoonononono  
   Just  
   no.  
   no he CAN’T.  
   no.


	14. "...I don't want to go."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...I don't want to go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um. Hi? This had been written for weeks but because my computer is being possessed by the devil I couldn't post it. And it's a short chapter and not funny. please don't hate me?

**_January 14 th, 8.12am, Slytherin Boys Dorm. _ **

Four days is not as long as I thought it would be.  
   They’re coming to take me away today.  
   Am sitting cross-legged on my bed staring at wall.  
   Don’t want to go.  
   Really don’t want to go.  
   Spoke to Potter last night. Said goodbye. Wish I’d had the important conversation with him way way earlier because this is _bullshit.  
_    I mean, come _on._ We’ve only been dating for four days and now we’re getting broken up. This is honestly the worst ever. Urg. Unpleasant tingling feeling in my eyes and throat like I might cry. Talked to Harmony yesterday, too. She hugged me. I might have hugged back a little. She promised to look after Potter. She cried.  
   Rosie is running around with a false beard on, adding ‘of Doom’ to every sentence she says. Either she doesn’t care that I’m leaving or she’s pretending that I’m not. Pretty sure it’s the latter. Know for certain that her craziness is an act. She’s been pretty much normal for the last few days, since she stopped taking her pills, just with a bad attention span. I was planning on going to say goodbye to her this morning, but now that it’s time I’m having trouble moving.  
   Really don’t want to go.  
   Stayed up late chatting to Zabini last night. He helped me pack my things, and didn’t even mention Davies once.  
   Have been writing my father. Begging, pleading, promising all kinds of shit if he’ll let me stay. He won’t let me stay. Insists this place is a bad influence on me. He’s wrong. It’s been a good influence, I think.  
   Potter looked so sad when I saw him last night.  
   This isn’t fair.

**_8.20 am,_ **

Rosie is here. Jumping on my bed and being the way she was until a few days ago.  
   “Can you just stop it?”  
   She stops it. Takes the fake beard off and sits down next to me.  
   “I had a speech prepared,” she tells me quietly. “It was long and it would have embarrassed you, but it was a good one. I got Harmony – _Hermione,_ I mean, to help me with the spelling.”   
   “Thanks.”  
   “I’m not going to say it, though. It was just words on paper and words can’t make you stay here so what’s the point?”  
    I don’t say anything.  
   “Exactly.”  
   Silence for a few minutes.  
   “We’re going to miss you a lot. You know that Davies and Zabini would never have gotten together if it wasn’t for you, and Hermione never would have made friends with them, and she’d still be pretending she doesn’t like Ron, and I’d still be pretending I have no feelings and getting into trouble all the time…”  
   “Thanks.”  
   “Shut up. I’m trying to say that you’re my best friend, and I’ll miss you,” her smile is weird. It’s _sincere._ “Wanna go get some breakfast?”  
   _Not really._ “Okay.”   
   “Great. Let’s go.”

**_8.25am, Great Hall._ **

Sitting at Slytherin table with entire co.; Potter, on my left, holding my hand under the table (he’s still so dreamy I can’t even breathe properly), Harmony on my right, looking like a sad deer, Davies and Zabini and Crabbe and Goyle across the table, none of them eating very much, and occasionally coming up with plans like “We could hide you in a secret passageway,” and “No, his father would murder us when we’re sleeping.”  
   Rosie is next to Harmony, feeding the mutt under the table. Even the dog seems to know that something is wrong, because it isn’t wagging its tail or demanding belly-rubs or anything. It’s just lying there, hidden from the teacher’s table by our legs, being sad.  
   This whole thing is depressing me. Ask Potter quietly if he wants to go off somewhere. He nods.

**_8.30am, Hogwarts Grounds._ **

Wandering around. It’s sleeting. Don’t care. Talk to Potter about unimportant things and eventually retreat to under a tree where it’s dry-ish to snog and talk about more important things.  
   “What time’s your dad getting here?"  
    “Ten.”  
   “I’m going to miss you.”  
   “I’m going to miss you too.”  
   “I had a good time, these last few days. With you.”  
   “Me too.”   
   I feel like I’m in one of those comic books Rosie lent me ages ago, as one of the bystanders who has to stand by and watch the world end, knowing they can’t do anything, just waiting for a superhero who’s never going to come.  
   “I’ll write to you, from Durmstrang.”  
   “I’m sorry we can’t go on our date.”   
   This is the most awful thing ever.

**_9.10am, cutting class with Potter._ **

This day is going way too fast. None of my teachers expect me to show up to class, or Potter, or any of our other friends probably, but they’re all off giving us privacy.  
   Potter and me aren’t doing much. Walking around the castle exploring all the little corridors and alcoves and places we’ve never seen before, and I’ll never see again. Rosie’s mutt, Hubert, is with us, walking by Potter’s hand and licking his fingers, like he’s trying to cheer him up.  
   Saw Pansy Parkinson walking down a corridor. She smiled sympathetically at me and said she was sorry I had to go. She completely ignored Potter and pretended he wasn’t there, but she was almost _nice_ to me, which is surprising considering the way we broke up.  
   That seems like forever ago, like it happened to someone else. But if I flip back through the pages of this ~~diary~~ journal, I’ll see an account of it written out in my handwriting. I might not be able to read it because I can rarely read my own writing, but it will be there.  
   “Draco? Are you alright?”  
   “I’m okay, Potter. Just thinking.”  
   “Oh.” Pause. “I didn’t know you knew how to do that.”  
   If it was anyone else I’d be insulted. But he’s smiling, just a little, so I laugh.  
   “Wanna go try to have a snowball fight?”  
   “There’s no snow. There’s only sleet.”  
   “That’s why I said ‘try’.”  
   Pause. He’s thinking about it. “Okay.”

**_9.35am, covered in sleet, kitchens._ **

Drinking hot chocolates to warm up with Potter. Will have to go downstairs soon to put ‘acceptable’ clothes on, and then go wait in Snape’s office for parents to get here.    Talking with Potter about Dobby, the old house-elf my parents used to have, about how Potter tricked my father into freeing him. Am a little embarrassed because I used to whine to Dobby about Potter whenever I was at home – about his stupid hair and his heroic deeds and how all the teachers felt sorry for him.  
   Silence falls, suddenly. It stays, but not an awkward silence. More like a comfortable one. I, of course, have to break it.  
   “Potter?”  
   “I’ve got a first name, you know.”  
   “I have to go get ready to leave.”   
   “Oh. Right.”  
   “Yeah.”  
   We very carefully don’t say goodbye. We said all those last night.   
   And then I go.

**_9.54am, in Snape’s office._ **

Waiting. Packed trunk is at my feet. Parents are on their way. Snape is silently grading essays with a disdainful expression on his face.  
   I feel all hollow.

**_9.59am,_ **

Parents are here.  
   Talking to Snape, thanking him for looking after me until they got here, ordering house-elf, to take care of my trunk.  
   Eventually, they turn to me. They don’t ask if I’m ready to leave. I stand up. Mother takes my arm. I say goodbye to Snape.  
   And we Apparate away.  
   The manor just as huge and cold and empty and as I remember it.  
   Home.

**_11.15pm, in bed._ **

Looking back on today, I think I left out half the things that happened, especially the stuff that people said to me. I forgot to write down how Harmony hugged me again as I was leaving the Great Hall and said she’d miss me, and I forgot about how Weasley reluctantly shook my hand. I didn’t write in Davies’ quite, sincere goodbye, or her brief hug. I didn’t write in how Rosie’s little friend, Astoria Greengrass, the chatterbox, came up to me and told me to watch out for Dark Wizards at Durmstrang, or the various students who wished me good luck. I know some of the teachers remarked on how clever I was, and told me to keep up the good work at my new school.  
   I didn’t write about what happened yesterday, when Rosie punched out Nott because he’s been reporting about me to my father, or how Flitwick, who seen the punch, let her get away with it. I didn’t write about how people were staring at me everywhere I went. Transfers are a rare, rare thing at Hogwarts and I think they thought I broken some terrible rule or done something positively evil. A fifth year Gryffindor boy tripped me up in the hallways and told me the school would be a better place with Death Eater scum like me in it.  
   I didn’t mention some Hufflepuff I’ve never even spoken to came up to me and told me he thought it was ‘jolly well unfair’ that I had to leave, and offered his condolences.  
   I never mentioned how scared I am about the what’s to come, how nervous. I didn’t write in detail about my proper goodbye with Potter, how hard it was to make myself say those words.  
   And I probably never will. They are the past now, they belong to yesterday. They’re dead and they can’t come back.  
   And I already miss that stupid castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so this gave me sads when I was writing it, but I know what the cure is: imagining Draco dancing around his dorm room singing 'Fancy' by Iggy Azaelea (because it's totally his theme song) while Rosie beat-boxes.


	15. "...six and a half months of detention."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...six and a half months of detention."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t even have any kind of excuse for why this took so long. Please forgive me?
> 
> Also the funny will be back soon. Draco's just going through a rough time, okay?

**_January 17 th, Durmstrang Acadamy Boys Dorms, midnight ish. _ **

Fucking fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

I hate this place.

Here is a short (long) list that I composed over the last three days.

_ Reasons Durmstrang Acadamy is a shit hole.  _

  1.        It’s cold. Like, ‘you could develop frostbite sitting in front of an open fire with thick socks on cold’. Only polar bears and mole people should have to live like this.
  2.        I don’t speak the language. This doesn’t make the school shitting but it makes my being her shitty. The headmaster got hold of a translation quill for me but it’s kind of crap. I can’t communicate with anyone.
  3.        Potter isn’t here. Enough said.
  4.        All my classmates are weird and kind of evil. They teach a ‘Dark Arts’ class which would of made me overjoyed a year ago but honestly creeps me out a lot now.
  5.        Potter is still in Scotland. Scotland isn’t here.
  6.        It’s fucking freezing.
  7.        So many rules. So. Fucking. Many. Rules. And it’s not like Hogwarts where rule breaking is _easy_ and _expected_ of the students, no, here rule breaking is _against the rules_ and punishable by death or something.
  8.        The number of owls we’re allowed to send is limited. Yes, you heard me, limited. We can send one owl a week to a teacher-approved destination. So far I’ve been denied allowance to send an owl to Hogwarts twice and been given two months of detention when I tried to send one without permission.
  9.        Did I mention Potter isn’t here?
  10.    Neither is Rosie.
  11.    Or Harmony.
  12.    Or Davies or Zabini or Crabbe or Goyle
  13.    And I can’t talk to any of them.
  14.    There is no Quidditch. Or any sort of sport. Or any sort of outdoor class. Mostly because it’s so cold but mostly because being outside is against the rules without a permission slip.
  15.    This place is like a prison.
  16.    POTTER IS NOT HERE.



Also, the teachers are scary. Like, terrifying. Like McGonadragon and Snape had a child that is a death eater who works for the ministry of magic and secretly a goblin.

….I now have very disturbing images in my head.

Lights out is at nine-thirty. For everyone. The entire school. Except for the teachers, because they of course are above the laws of mortal men. Teachers make rounds to make sure we’re in out beds and have freaking ghost reporting to them if anyone breaks the rules.

I’m breaking the rule right now by having my wandlight on but I’m already in detention for the next 500 hundred years so who cares.

Oh, yeah; a list of all the things I’ve done to earn detention so far.

  1.        Sending an owl without permission, two months,
  2.        Speaking to the one kind in my class who actually knows a little English, doing so _in class,_ which is apparently against the rules, three weeks,
  3.        Going outside without permission, two weeks,
  4.        Breaking curfew (aka wandering around lost because I couldn’t find my way back to my dorm), four weeks,
  5.        Having lights on after light outs, two weeks,
  6.        Speaking inappropriately to a teacher, a teacher who doesn’t speak English, whose language I don’t know how to speak, whose language I don’t even know _what language it is_ (I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT COUNTRY I AM IN MERLIN’S FUCKING BALLS), who I was trying to ask for directions to the bathroom, two weeks,
  7.        For vandalism and destruction of property (throwing a hex at a wall out of pure _frustration_ because I have no fucking idea what is going on), five weeks.



I have been here for three days.

I already have _six and a half months of detention._

I hate this place. I hate it so much I was too depressed to write the last few days. But then a remembered that ~~if~~ when I go back to Hogwarts I will want an accurate account of my time in this horrid place to complain to my mates about. So I am writing again.

And now I am going to go to sleep because I will need to be rested to deal with the day to come.

 

* * *

 

**_January 18 th, breakfast. _ **

Breakfast here is, like at Hogwarts, served in a large hall.

That’s where the similiarties end. The food is guarded by a stern lunchlady and everyone gets given the same – porridge they call _kasha,_ boiled eggs (that are always stone cold by the time they’re served, _ew)_ , a piece of toast, two if the lunchlady is feeling generous. There aren’t any house-elves here and the cooking is done by squibs mostly, muggle-style. We sit in groups determined by age and class level (yeah, that’s a thing, kind of like Houses back at Hogwarts). Whispering to your closest neighbours is allowed. Anything louder than a mumble is worth detention.

I’m not at risk of getting in trouble for that, at least.

I don’t say anything.

****

**_8.56am, first class._ **

Classes aren’t split up into subjects here. There are three hour-and-a-half long classes every day, first class, second class, and third class. First glass is after breakfast and before lunch. Second class is after lunch and before afternoon break. Third class is after afternoon break and before the school day ends. We have the same teacher for all of them, some old wizard who knows a little bit about everything and has dozens of books about what he doesn’t know. He talks too quickly for my translation quill to keep but with, so this is what my notes look like:

Casting the….is often…..sideways…..carefully wave….wand steady…right-handed or…..spell.

Needlessly to say, I’m not doing so well in classes.

Managed to talk a bit to the Engligh-speaking kid just after breakfast, though. Apparently his English isn’t as good as he pretended it was because all he can say is ‘fuck’ and ‘titties’, but he did say, or at least I think he said, that there’s a sixth year who is almost fluent in English who might be able to help me.

**_10.23am, lunch._ **

Lunch is held in the same big hall as breakfast. The food is pretty much the same, but with hot soup replacing porridge and these little cakes that taste like dry flour. It goes for forty-five minutes, which can be spent studying in the common areas, practising spells, or being an outright fucking nusence.

I keep getting shoved over and getting called what I’m pretty sure is the whatever-the-hell-language-is-being-spoken eqivilent to ‘fairy boy’ or whatever. I don’t really care about the names, but if one more person shoves me I am going to hex someone.

Or maybe just stab them with a butter knife because everyone at the damn school is really quite good at shield spells, and I don’t think any of them have spent enough time around muggleborns to expect a physical attack.

Speaking of muggleborns and physical attacks…I miss Rosie like a hole in my chest, possibly even more than I miss Potter. I mean, I only got a few days of being with Potter, so I never got used to being around him, but Rosie was by my side for months and months and months and I feel like I’m missing a limb.

I don’t want to think about this right now. I’m going to go look for the English speaking kid.

**_10.51am,_ **

Found him. It took a while of going up to sixth years and saying “Are you the English speaking kid? Do you speak English?” and them going “ _Het._ Crumb!” and being confused because what? Heterosexual crumbs? But eventually I figured out they were saying ‘Krum’ and Krum is the name of the English speaking kid, who is Viktor Krum, who if I am not wrong plays Quidditch for Bulgaria, who is kind of gruff but ultimately very helpful.

So I found him and we ended up sitting under a stairwell chatting, and I now know this much: this school is in Russia, and near the Belarus border, and the language that I can’t understand is actually a mixture of several languages because all students of decent blood from all over eastern Europe go to school here – Bulgarians, Polish, Ukranian, Romanian, West Russian, etc. Russian is the primary spoken language but plenty of others, so no fucking _wonder_ I’m confused.

Anyway Viktor explained a lot of shit and drew me a map and gave me a book that’s

called ‘Learning Russian for morons’ or something so now I am marginally less confused. He also explained the illegal owl system (and that is a sentence I never thought I’d use) so I can send letters to Hogwarts, and offered to get some letters off for me.

I have class now, and I’m going to spend it writing up letters for some people.

Bless Viktor Krum.

 

**_11.05am, second class._ **

 

Letters 

 

Potter,

I miss you.

I’m sending this via illegal owl because sending mail to Hogwarts is forbidden. I may get thrown in Azkaban because of this, but that’s okay because I am really very fond of you and if I was going to get imprisoned I’d rather it be for you and not because Rosie talked me into robbing Gringotts or something.

How is home? I miss seeing your face. I’m not sure if I ever told you this, but I am very fond of your face. Also your hair. And your body. And everything about you.

It’s cold here. There is only one other person in this entire school who speaks English, and more rules than I have hairs on my head. I already have six months worth of detention, for getting lost, and then for asking for directions. I don’t even know.

The other students are kind of scary. They’re all dark wizards in draining and they yell weird things at me when I walk past. ‘Pidar’ is the main one. I think I know what it means.

I thought I’d have more to say, but I really don’t.

I miss you.

– Draco

 

Rosie & Harmony (& gang I suppose)

Doing this is one letter because I don’t want to weigh down the illegal owl. Yes, you read that right.

Rosie, you’ll be proud of me, I’ve already broken like fifty rules. Mostly without meaning to, but still. A whole fifty.

Harmony, I’m failing my classes already because I don’t speak the language, and you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met so I was wondering if you knew any translation spells, or could try and make one? I know it’s a lot to ask and if it’s too much it doesn’t matter, I just had to ask.

Gang – by this I mean Crabbe, Goyle, Davies, Zabini, and whoever else is reading this I guess – Don’t let Potter fall in love with anyone else. I’m planning an escape from here, I just need some time, and I don’t want to come back to find he’s hooked up with that guy who always sets himself on fire or something. Also, (THE FOLLOWING WORDS ARE NOT FOR THE EYES OF ROSIE GRANGER) take care of my furry little mudblood. I’m worried about her, or something.

– Draco

 

Those letters sound so dumb. I sound so dumb. But I wrote and rewrote them and that’s all I could come up with, so it’s what I’m going to be sending, I guess.

I can’t wait for this day to be over. I want to cut class and go spend the rest of the day in my dorm, but punishment for cutting class is getting chained upside down by our ankles in the dungeons and whipped or something.

Filch would love it here.

I want to go to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> real talk, this is probably going to be over in a few chapters. Three or four, maybe more, but I really like writing in this style so I was wondering if anyone would read a multichapter marauders fic similar to this if I was to write one? 
> 
> Also, I’m on tumblr under the url notvaleri. If you have a tumblr, come say hi, because I want more cool blogs to follow and anyone who’s putting up with reading this story has to be pretty damn cool. 
> 
> (everything about Russia/Russian language I got off google, so if it’s horribly incorrect and offensive I AM SO SORRY)


	16. "Superhero."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Superhero."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so sorry this took so long I had a broken knuckle and it hurt to type (DON’T PICK FIGHTS, KIDS) and then I was really bad mental-health wise (I’ve spent two weeks hiding in a closet and crying??? I don’t even know why im sad???) BUT THEN an intervention happened and I got given a writing prompt for this chapter so I have returned? 
> 
> Anyway: THE CHAPTER.

**_January 28 th. Midnightish, in my bed. _ **

I have frozen. Literally, Frozen. I think my toes are falling off.

This place, as I may have mentioned, is _cold_. Like. I don’t have words to describe how cold it is. I’m going to transform into an icicle?

If only Potter was here to warm me up. Har har har. I’m so funny. Actually what I am is lonely, even if I’ve picked up a few Russian phrases. No one talks to me; apparently I’ve earned a reputation as the ‘weird dumb English Death Eater kid’ which isn’t entirely untrue, but still. _Rude_.

Like, come on. I’m too pretty to be a Death Eater.

 

**_January 29 th, 2.31pm, sitting outside Headmaster’s office. _ **

Have been called out of class. Am sitting outside Headmaster’s office, waiting. Possible for execution?

(They wouldn’t kill me, would they? Would they?)

If I’m to die here, I want it know that I want to be buried in one of Rosie’s fake beards, to celebrate all the good times we had together. Rosie and me, I mean. Not me and the beard. That would be strange. I want to be buried with something of Potter’s, too. Maybe his – no, he needs his glasses to like, see. A lock of his hair? No, that would be weird. His Gryffindor scarf? No, I have some Slytherin Pride left, _thankyouverymuch_. I DON’T KNOW JUST BURY ME WITH ONE OF HIS SOCKS OR SOMETHING.

Oh shit the headmaster’s door is opening I’m going to die –

Wait is that my mother???

**_3.16pm, on the run from the law._ **

Well, not really. But.

I have left Durmstrang. I have left Russia. I am currently in France, with my mother, eating a late lunch in the sun. The _sun_.

I had forgotten what that felt like. Well. Not really. But I almost had. Very nearly.

I don’t have to go back to Durmstang. _Ever_. I’m going back to Hogwarts. Mother promised. I don’t know how she got Father to agree to it (does he even know??) but it’s happening. I’m _saved_.

My mother is officially some kind of superhero. I asked her, “Why?” and she said, “Because you’re my son, and I love, you, and I want you to be happy, even if it’s with mudbloods and blood-traitors and _Harry Potter.”_

I said to her, “I love you too,”

She kissed my forehead and smoothed back my hair. It’s the first time I can ever remember her outwardly showing me such affection for _years_.

She asks me if I want to go back to Hogwarts straight away, or wait a few days. I told her, straight away.

We’re leaving in a few minutes.

I’m going _home_.

**_3.29pm, HOME._ **

I’m home.

I’m just standing slightly inside the gates, looking around. Breathing it in.

I’m _home_.

Walking as I write, now. There’s slush on the ground and it’s beautiful.

I think I can see Harmony necking with Weasley behind a tree???

That is _not_ beautiful. That is gross.

Sneak up behind them. Say something witty. Harmony shrieks. Weasley splutters. Harmony…starts laughing.

Harmony is hugging me?

??????

“How are you here, oh my gosh, it’s so good to see you! Are you staying? We were all so worried about you, are you okay? You’re not frozen? We wanted to come get you, Harry was all for flying all the way to Durmstrang on his broomstick to rescue you, we missed you _so_ much, nothing been the same without you –“

“Bloody hell, Hermione, give him some room to breathe.”

“Right, sorry, it’s just so good to see you, are you okay, Draco?”

Manage to say, “Yeah, I’m okay now. I’m back.”

It’s must be raining; my face feels wet.

**_Migngith_ **

Someonn goth akahole frm somwere I hink it w as a wesglty twin?

Wer’r pattying

Feal ammazing!

 

**_January 30 th, am dead. _ **

Am literally dead. I’m dead. I am dead.

Hangover’s are the worst.

I’m going to murder the Weasley twin that brought the alcohol to the ‘welcome back Malfoy’ party last night, as soon as I figure out which one it was.

**_12.39pm, in the common room._ **

Have never been more grateful for a Saturday. Still feel awful, but less awful than this morning. Still planning to murder whichever Weasley twin snuck in the fire whisky. Might kill Rosie too, for deciding that a welcome back party was necessary at all, except I had fun last night. I think? A lot of people were hugging me and there was music and I think ‘Colin’ might have thrown up in a fireplace.

Good times.

And Potter.

Potter was there. At the party, I mean. Potter with his stupid messy hair and his dumb green eyes  and his slow sweet smile and his little dimples that are barely there and his clever small hands and his chapped lips and his skinny hips.

I may have told him I loved him.

He may have said it back.

I may have kissed him.

He may have kissed me back.

Am grinning like a simpleton, but I’m so happy. I’m _home_.

I was even happy to see Crabbe and Goyle and Davies, Merlin help me. I may have hugged them. Not as hard as I hugged Potter (the dork was like an octopus, wrapping his arms around me, and he smelled so good and he was so warm and _I am beyond help and I don’t even care)_ but still, a pretty decent hug.

I think I may have gone insane while away from here; I think I _missed_ them.

(I’m not ashamed to admit I missed Potter, I missed him like a severed limb)

Am going to go up to the Gryffindor common room and see Potter now, because I am _back_ and I _can_ , because my mother is literally a superhero, or one of those muggle things Rosie told me about – angels? I’ll have to check her for wings next time I see her.

But I really do have to go be gay with Potter now.

                                                                                                                                                                 

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> not actually a chapter sorry

basically i'm done with this, not updating again, SORRY, but people have still been commenting, which is amazing, seeing as i first started writing this two (maybe? time is weird) years ago, and i've unloaded a bunch of my shit on you guys (sorry) so i guess i owe you something like a conclusion. i can't really write proper stuff anymore idk all my words are gone so it's not a proper chapter, just a basic outline of what i'd planned to happen in the next two or so chapters before it ended. 

basically, on that one night with the full moon and teachers who are werewolves and sirius making murder plans and shit, rosie and our disaster boy are roaming around the grounds, our boy gushing about how in loooooove he is, rosie almost falls over ron's "rat", who seems to be running away from something. so she picks it up and shoves it in her pocket (it tries to bite her but she stuns it ("animal cruelty much, granger" "shut up, malfoy")) (did yall miss my too many brackets?) and come the next morning when the trio are in the hospital wing, she sort of pulls out the unconscious rat like "btw" and everyone looses their minds a little, sirius is proven innocent, voldemort never rises again, there's no war, everyone lives, blah blah blah, harry goes to live with sirius in a nice house in the country and malfoy spends every summer there and they're cute and in love, blah blah blah, good news all round, eveyone's happy, nott dies or something or at least goes to prison a little. it was gonna be cute. sorry it's not properly happening. 

come find me on tumblr @ notvaleri if you're not totally sick of me. 

**Author's Note:**

> I've written up to chapter four of this, and have spent half the time laughing at my own bad jokes, because apparently in future chapters I've decided to try to be funny, which will most definitely not end well.   
>  Also, if I don't update this for months at time I've not abandoned it, just forgotten about it. To prevent that, leave me comments so I get email alerts. Hint, hint.   
>  I am going to go away now. Tootie-bye, dear reader.


End file.
